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THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


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The Adventures of a 
Young Girl 

A Romance 


BY 

MARION PHELAN 


PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR 



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Copyright, 1914, by 
MARION PHELAN 


SEP 30 1914 

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©CU380620 

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THE ADVENTURES OF 
A YOUNG GIRL 


CHAPTER I 

I N yonder valley, situated about five miles from Dublin, 
stood a picturesque little cottage, noted for its arched trees 
and beautiful scenery. From the cottage window could be 
seen a lake well known for its deep and treacherous waters. 
On its banks stood a young girl, with a mass of golden hair 
floating on the breeze, cheeks aglow with the roses of health, 
and eyes the hue of violets in the dell. They called her But- 
terfly. 

She passed from flower to flower, drinking in their perfume, 
happier and more free from care than the butterfly or the bird 
flitting from tree to tree. The birds and flowers were her 
companions, she loved them and all Nature, she was always 
decked with wild flowers. She came each dawn to the lake, 
fairylike in her loveliness, her dimpled hands filled with food, 
and her eyes with pity. Her tender calls brought the hungry 
birds flocking around her; many were warbling their songs of 
thanks, while others partook of their morning meal. Her 
gentle mother, looking from her bedroom window, was touched 
with the deepest sympathy as she watched with tenderness her 
little daughter and prayed heaven to spare her until she should 
grow into womanhood and be happily united in the bonds of 
matrimony. 


5 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


H er father was the descendant of an old Irish family, who 
boasted of their heroes and great men, and he too died bravely 
on the battle-field. Underneath the burning skies of Arabia 
he lies in a soldier’s grave; inscribed on his tombstone are the 
words, “ The greatest hero of the day.” Butterfly Fields in- 
herited her great beauty and vivacity, — that attracted so much 
attention, — from her mother. All eyes were turned upon this 
golden-haired girl; her sweet innocence and kind deeds won 
all hearts. The poor children of the neighborhood loved her; 
when sickness visited their homes she, like a ray of sunshine, 
was always there, whispering words of comfort, gathering wild 
flowers for their bedsides, comforting and helping to lighten 
the burden of those poor little children that fate had not dealt 
with so kindly. 

Mrs. Field’s health was anything but robust; since the death 
of her husband care and sorrow had dimmed her beauty, and 
left her with a pale, sad face. She decided that her daughter’s 
early training should be in a convent. Butterfly must now bid 
adieu to her lovely home among the flowers, where she was 
so happy and free, to take up her life under the severe yet care- 
ful training of the convent. She whispered pleadingly to her 
mother that she felt that the sunshine of her life was departing, 
that those happy days would not return. “ Who will comfort 
you when I am gone, and drive away your cares, and sorrows? 
When the poor children of the village are down with the fever 
there will be no one to carry them wild flowers, or to soothe 
them. I can scarcely bear to leave this happy place, but if you 
say it is best. Mother, I will go.” 

The beautiful months of flowers had fled, leaving faded 
brown leaves, and the earth that was robed in glorious green 
was fading; all nature was dying. Here and there in the 
meadows you could hear the merry voices of the peasants gath- 
ering in their harvest. Evening had arrived with its fragrant 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


soft air. Butterfly had gone to her room; sorrow was at her 
heart at the thought of leaving her darling mother for the 
first time. She awoke at daybreak after a rather restless night; 
the autumnal sun was pouring in through her windows, the 
birds were singing, and some of them were waiting for their 
crumbs. She hurried on her white morning robe, slipped 
quietly from the house, carrying with her food for the birds. 
She called them, saying to them in a tender voice, “ In two 
days I shall be gone, and you will know me no more.” “ In 
two days,” she whispered to the lake with its treacherous dark 
waters, “ I shall bid you adieu. Many pleasant days have I 
spent upon your flower grown banks. You shall know me no 
more as simple Butterfly Fields.” 

The morning of her departure had arrived, bringing its 
glorious rays of sunshine. With tears of fond affection the 
mother and the daughter bade farewell to each other. The 
speeding train dashed with great rapidity to the station, and 
bore its beautiful burden away, over hills and mountains, — 
tired and weary after her journey. Butterfly reached her des- 
tination, — the beautiful convent of St. Bernard’s. It was 
situated on a high mountain, and was surrounded by fields of 
purple heather; its lofty trees, with their trembling brown 
leaves, whispered in strange, mournful voices. From the tower 
windows, looking beyond the mountain top, you could see the 
deep, silvery sea, and hear it moaning and sobbing, and dash- 
ing wildly against the rocks like the awful wailing of the lost 
soul. 

Butterfly looked in wonder at this strange and dignified 
edifice. Mother Clare greeted her kindly in the drawing- 
room. Mother Clare was the Mother Superior of the Con- 
vent. This sweet-faced, kind, and motherly nun charmed But- 
terfly. “ You are tired after your journey,” she said gently, 
patting her hand in a motherly way. “ Dinner will be served 
presently, and then you can retire.” She touched a bell, and 

7 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


immediately a trim, intelligent maid came in. “ Jane, show 
Miss Fields to her room,” she said kindly. 

Jane led the way up the broad, winding stairs, to a plain, 
but neatly furnished room, then withdrew. 

Butterfly was preparing for dinner, and before she had time 
to remove her travelling gown the dinner bell rang ; two by 
two, the young ladies marched to the great dining-room. But- 
terfly hurried on a pretty white dress, brushed back her golden 
locks, then hurried down the dark, yet wonderful old cor- 
ridors that led to the convent dining-room. All eyes were 
turned toward the newcomer and her rare loveliness. St. 
Cecilia met her and escorted her to her seat in the spacious 
dining-room, with its immaculate linen. Some of the fair 
young faces in that room were lily-like, while others were like 
June roses. 

When dinner was over Butterfly retired to her room. The 
full glow of the evening was passing. The western wind, soft 
and caressing, swept through the branches of the stately old 
trees, and darkness was spreading over the land. Butterfly 
retired early, fatigued after her journey. The pale moon shone 
through her bedroom window and kissed the lovely curls that 
lay like ringlets of gold on her soft white pillow. Her mind 
was a little disturbed. “ I ought to be happy in this peaceful, 
beautiful place, but a cloud hangs over me.” So, with sweet 
memories of home and mother, she was soon wrapped in peace- 
ful slumber. 

The new born day brought its glorious sunshine, and new 
duties for her. After breakfast the girls set to work. Mother 
Clare in her sweet dignified way asked Butterfly what art she 
liked best. 

“ I like painting,” she said smilingly. “ I am fond of music, 
but I do love to paint. I may have to earn my living some 
day, and who knows but I may be famous? ” 

8 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


“Would you like to be famous, Miss Fields?” asked the 
fair, slender girl by her side. 

“ Yes, it is my fondest hope,” replied Butterfly. 

As time rolled on Butterfly progressed wonderfully; she was 
a good student, and showed great talent as an artist. The 
sisters loved her, her schoolmates both loved and envied her, 
she reigned queen of her class. She had one dangerous rival 
in Dorothy Gregg, who was the only daughter of wealthy Eng- 
lish parents. She had dark flashing eyes, that in scorn could 
flash like a demon, and raven black hair. Her teeth were like 
pearls, and her cheeks were tinted with the hue of the rose. 
Her schoolmates called her “ Haughty Dorothy.” 

“ I cannot bear that Butterfly Fields,” said Dorothy to her 
companion. “ Everything is for her. She runs this school, 
and I cannot stand it. I wish she were gone from here. They 
say she is poor, too.” 

“ Do not talk so, Dorothy,” her companion replied chidingly. 
“ You know Butterfly is marvelously beautiful, and very tal- 
ented, and that means more than riches.” 

“ It does not, and neither is she beautiful,” and Dorothy’s 
great dark eyes flashed with scorn. 

“ Talking again, Miss Gregg. You deserve to be punished. 
Do not repeat this again,” said Mother Clare firmly. “You 
know the rules of this school and you must abide by them.” 

“ I always deserve to be punished,” muttered Dorothy un- 
der her breath, “ while Butterfly reigns queen of the school.” 

“ What did you say. Miss Gregg? ” asked Mother Clare. 

“ I was repeating my lessons,” said Dorothy, trying to choke 
back her scorn. 

Sister Cecilia announced that it was singing hour, and the 
girls marched to the music room. Dorothy was humming to 
herself, and beating time with her dainty hand, and now and 
then casting a sarcastic glance at Butterfly. 

9 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


“ Oh, Sister Cecilia,” said Dorothy pleadingly, “ let us sing 
‘ Home, Sweet Home.’ ” 

Dorothy knew that this song always pained Butterfly and 
dimmed her eyes with tears. Butterfly always left the room 
when the song was being sung, for the recollection of a home 
and a lonely and delicate mother that needed her in her de- 
clining years affected her deeply, and she did not wish to dis- 
play emotion for Dorothy to jeer at. 

“ Dorothy,” said her classmate who stood beside her, “ why 
do you like to pain Miss Fields? You know that song always 
saddens her.” 

“ I do not,” she replied ; “ nor if I did would I care.” 

“ For shame, Dorothy Gregg,” returned her companion in- 
dignantly. “You boast of your proud English ancestors, and 
yet display such lack of breeding. You are a disgrace to them. 
You have tried to reproach and demean that poor girl. She 
has never given j^ou any cause. See how her beautiful golden 
head shines like a lovely sunbeam beside yours, — a dark cloud.” 

This touched Dorothy’s pride; a crimson blush came to her 
cheeks, and her haughty head was bowed for once. Before 
she had time to answer. Sister Cecilia took her seat at the piano 
and announced “ All together, girls.” She had stopped to talk 
to Mother Clare a moment, then they sang the well known 
song, “Won’t you buy my pretty flowers?” As soon as they 
were finished each girl was called upon to sing separately. 
Butterfly was chosen to sing first. She had a delightful voice, 
soft and sweet, and she selected her favorite song, “ Gathering 
Wild Flowers from the Dell.” This song always awakened 
sweet childhood memories in her breast, and with thrilling 
voice, filling the room with sweet tenderness, — which held 
the listeners in thrall, — it stole over the senses of all, awaken- 
ing tender memories, and delighting everybody. It even 
softened Dorothy’s hardened heart. 

lO 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


“How very beautiful!” exclaimed Sister Cecilia. “You 
are a credit to our school. I wish all our pupils were like 
you.” 

Again Butterfly carried off the honors. Dorothy heaved a 
sigh, for in her father’s home she held sway; her parents idol- 
ized her, the servants attended more through fear than love 
her orders and whims. They were frequently discharged, 
without being told the reason, but in the well disciplined con- 
vent of St. Bernard’s Dorothy could not have her own way, 
and in consequence her pride was deeply wounded. 

The last streak of daylight had found its way through But- 
terfly’s window. She was awakened by the sound of a howling 
gale and the tossing and swaying of the naked elm boughs 
against her window. She arose softly so as not to awaken her 
companions, and throwing open the shutters, looked out over 
the mountains that a few months ago were robed in green. 
Now they were equally as beautiful in their snowy whiteness. 
It was bitterly cold outside, the sky seemed heavy, indicating 
that there would be another fall of snow, and the white-cov- 
ered trees looked like a picture she had longed to sketch. As 
she gazed upon this picturesque scenery the thought flashed 
through her mind of the time when she should return home to 
her lonely mother and Ivy Cottage, not as simple Butterfly 
Fields, but as an ambitious artist that all the world should 
know. She dressed very quietly, her face aglow with excite- 
ment, so enthusiastic was she over her new-found object to 
paint. She wrapped a heavy shawl around her, then she stole 
softly down the stairs, and unbolting the heavy doors, stepped 
out on the wintry lawn, heedless of the biting blast. The 
robin redbreast sang a song as she approached, but its voice 
seemed troubled, for it was cold and hungry. 

“You poor bird,” said Butterfly, with pity in her voice; 
“ why do you remain in this freezing place ? Why do you 

II 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


not go where the sun always shines? Where do you find food 
and shelter now that the trees and ground are covered with 
snow? ” 

The wind sighed and wailed, and the snow fell softly from 
the heavily laden branches to the white pall below. Some of 
it wafted across and lingered upon Butterfly’s beautiful face 
as she was earnestly sketching the scene. 

Suddenly she heard footsteps on the crisp snow. Turning 
around she saw a figure robed in costly furs. It was Dorothy 
Gregg. She came down the wintery lawn, and going in the 
direction of a large oak tree, looked into its hollow trunk, then | 
with a quick, nervous hand threw back the snow, as if in search 
of something concealed therein, and the object proved to be a 
treacherous weapon, — a bow and arrow. Dorothy’s brother, 
— who had since died, and who now lies in the Gregg resting- 
place in England, and who was a skilled marksman, — had 
taught her how to shoot. Butterfly watched this haughty 
beauty, and wondered what she intended doing with the pe- 
culiar weapon. 

Suddenly Dorothy looked around, as if in search of some- 
thing else, her dark eyes shining with cold brilliancy, her 
queenly head held high. She walked back and forth, and look- 
ing up toward the snow-covered branches of the elm tree, she 
spied the robin redbreast, and pointing her weapon in the 
direction of the cold and hungry bird, was about to let the 
arrow fly when Butterfly stepped from behind the tree. Her 
sweet face was flushed with indignation. 

“ You are cruel, Dorothy Gregg. Mother Clare shall know 
of this. You have concealed weapons around here. The Sis- 
ters will be astonished at your conduct.” 

Dorothy’s eyes flashed like those of a maniac, and her crim- 
son cheeks turned as white as the snow that lay at her feet. 
In an instant, as if inspired by a demon, she deliberately took 
aim at Butterfly, and the deadly arrow flitted past her, tear- 

12 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


ing a hole in her loose, flowing garment. Butterfly’s sketch- 
book dropped from her hands. 

Horrified and bewildered, she exclaimed: “Oh, Dorothy, 
how could you? I have never injured even the little birds. 
I have been a victim of your jealousy ever since I came to the 
convent. I have never wronged you in any way, and yet you 
have tried to kill me.” 

Dorothy fixed her cold dark eyes on the girl. She laughed 
contemptuously. “To kill you!” she exclaimed, as if hor- 
rified; “the thought never entered my mind,” — with a toss 
of her proud head. “ It was a mere accident. I am sorry 
if I frightened or disturbed you. Should my mother or the 
proud ladies of the Gregg family hear of your false accusation. 
Miss Butterfly, you might regret it.” Again Dorothy’s cold 
proud face was defiant. 

Butterfly was stunned at this proud, false girl. “ Dorothy,” 
she said, “ some day your pride will have a fall, and you shall 
suffer the pangs your proud manner has inflicted upon others.” 

Picking up her sketch-book that had been lying on the snow. 
Butterfly walked away, disappointed and sad at heart. As she 
turned around she looked as if in search of the robin red- 
breast; it had flown in the direction of the steps near the con- 
vent door, unconscious of the fight she had fought for its 
life. 

“ I defended you,” she said to the bird, “ but I nearly lost 
my life by doing so.” 

As she stood there she looked divinely lovely, her golden curls 
flowing on the breeze, her violet eyes making a beautiful con- 
trast to the snow that was blown around her by the gale. 

Presently the rising-bell rang, and shaking the snow from 
her cloak, she hastily entered the house. 

“ I will be missed,” she murmured. “ Mother Clare will 
wonder at my absence,” and she tripped hastily up the winding 
stairs to her room. 


13 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


Her head ached and her nerves were unstrung after her 
strange adventure with Dorothy. She could hear the sound 
of merry voices chattering in joy at the thought of their Christ- 
mas holidays. One more week would bring the great day that 
would release them from their studies, and the thought quieted 
Butterfly’s shattered nerves. How she longed just then to be 
with her darling mother! She walked toward the window, 
and the December winds sighed and moaned without. 

“ I hope Mother is well,” she mused. 

She was aroused from her thoughts by a gentle knocking, 
and a sweet voice said, “May I come in. Miss Fields?” It 
was Sister Agatha. “ Why, dear child,” she exclaimed, “ you 
look pale and frightened.” 

“ I am well myself, thank you,” Butterfly replied, “ but I 
fear my mother is not.” 

“ Mother Clare wishes to see you in the drawing-room ; she 
has a telegram from your mother.” 

“ She is well, I hope,” gasped Butterfly, and her pale face 
turned a shade paler. 

“ I think not quite, my dear,” said Sister Agatha; “ Mother 
Clare will tell you.” 

“ I will be down immediately,” said Butterfly respectfully, 
her heart throbbing with doubt and fear. 

Grasping the banister, she went down the broad staircase 
to the drawing-room. Mother Clare awaited her, and ob- 
served her anxious face as she entered the room. 

“You are very nervous, my dear,” said Mother Clare, strok- 
ing gently the golden curls. 

“ My mother is not seriously ill, I hope,” said Butterfly, 
with an anxious expression. 

“ There is nothing to be alarmed about,” said Mother Clare 
gently. “ Your mother is not well, but she wishes your return 
at Once.” 

“ May I go now? ” said Butterfly pleadingly. 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


“ Yes, my dear, as soon as you are ready,” replied Mother 
Clare. 

“ How w’e shall miss you. Butterfly. You have brightened 
our school, and displayed wonderful genius. I am sorry you 
have to go, dear. I hope you will find your mother quite re- 
covered, and return as soon as vacation is over.” 

“ I sincerely hope so,” returned Butterfly, with another anx- 
ious look. “ My sojourn at the convent has been very pleas- 
ant.” 

But it escaped Mother Clare’s notice that her fair face was 
clouded for a moment; she was thinking of her adventure with 
Dorothy Gregg. Then, with an obeisance, Butterfly went hur- 
riedly away to prepare for her journey. She was much cheered 
by Mother Clare’s kind words. In less than an hour she was 
ready to leave the convent, which was beginning to grow so 
very dear to her. Bidding farewell to her schoolmates and 
the kind, loving Sisters, who regretted so much to learn of her 
sorrow and expressed many wishes for her return, she drove 
away, and was soon speeding over the snow-covered moun- 
tains to Ivy Cottage. She was missed very much by her school- 
mates, — all but Dorothy Gregg, who wore a triumphant 
smile. 

“ The school is well rid of her ; she tires me with her goody- 
goody ways,” said Dorothy in her usual cold manner. 

“ By the way, Dorothy,” said her classmate, Miss Suther- 
land, “ the school has lost its charms for me since Butterfly 
went. Her presence brightened the schoolroom as a sunbeam 
brightens a gloomy prison.” 

“ You annoy me by talking of Butterfly’s virtues ; she is as 
silly as her name,” said Dorothy, with a dash of scorn in her 
voice. 

Miss Sutherland turned away with a shudder. 

Butterfly arrived at Ivy Cottage after a rather tedious jour- 
ney, as the snow was deep on the mountains. She was met by 

15 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


Molly, her mother’s faithful servant, whose anxious look and 
pallid face told her that her mother was dangerously ill. 

“ How is Mother?” she asked the girl. 

“ Your mother lies at death’s door. Miss Butterfly,” said 
the faithful Molly. “ The Doctor has but little hope of her 
recovery; she has been stricken by a treacherous disease of the 
heart.” The words pierced her young heart. 

“If Mother dies, I have no one in the wide world,” she 
moaned, and raising her tear-stained eyes to Heaven, she prayed 
God to spare her mother. Presently she went upstairs in the 
direction of the silent chamber where the angel of death stood 
near, and opening the door she softly entered. A nurse rose 
silently and made her way to Butterfly. 

“How is Mother?” she whispered. 

“ Oh, you are her daughter who has been away to boarding- 
school. I am so glad you are here. Your Mother is very 
low. She calls incessantly for you, and the doctors have im- 
pressed upon us that the least excitement, the least agitation, 
means death to your dear mother.” 

“ I will be careful,” said Butterfly, with a sigh. 

The large, silent chamber was lighted by a night-lamp that 
Stood upon the table, but it was carefully shaded. A faint 
glimmer of light fell upon the bed and upon the white drawn 
face that lay upon the soft pillow, a face that once was as beau- 
tiful as the fairest flower. In the eyes there was the faint, 
filmy look that comes into the eyes that death has begun to 
darken. For a moment Butterfly stood and gazed in silence 
on the stricken figure, and her frail, delicate form trembled 
with emotion. She stood by her mother’s side and touched the 
soft white hand that lay upon the counterpane, and her mother 
opened her eyes. 

Seeing who was there, she cried, “ My daughter, my only 
child. Oh, Heaven spare me to you!” Butterfly kissed the 
pale face with her fresh young lips. 

i6 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


“ Dear Mother,” she said gently, “ it is indeed your only 
daughter. I have come to cheer and comfort you. I am here 
to soothe your pains.” 

“ My daughter,” moaned the feeble voice, “ how different 
I thought it would be for you. How I long to remain with 
you, and guide you through the rough, thorny path that must 
be the road of a young girl, alone, beautiful, and penniless.” 

Butterfly’s lips quivered, her bosom heaved. “ Oh, Mother,” 
she said, “ do not talk so. Heaven will spare you to me. 
You are very ill, I know, but with great care and time you 
will recover. You must not excite and trouble yourself about 
my future. Kind angels guard the orphans.” 

Again the golden head was bent over the white thin face 
and Butterfly kissed her mother warmly. “ How brave you 
are,” said the feeble voice, and her mother, though dying, burst 
into passionate tears. 

The nurse cautioned Butterfly that the least excitement 
might mean sudden death, and turning to the patient, she said 
gently : “ Do not excite yourself. This is indeed too much 

for you.” 

Butterfly begged to remain with her mother, but the nurse 
persuaded her that it was better for her not to do so for the 
present. 

“ I will leave you now. Mother,” she said gently. “ You 
will rest and be better to-morrow.” 

When Butterfly was going her mother called her back. 
“ My daughter,” she said, “ it all comes back to me. How I 
used to kiss your baby face and think to myself what a grand 
future I would make for you. Stoop down and kiss my lips 
as you used to do.” 

All the love and tenderness of the young girl’s heart was 
stirred by the words. She laid her fresh, rosy lips on, those 
that had spoken so affectionately to her, and the mother and 
the daughter embraced each other with unwonted tenderness. 

17 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


Then Butterfly left the room softly, and returned to her 
own; and when the door was closed she fell upon her knees, 
with a passionate outburst of tears. She knelt by the little 
couch and buried her face in her hands, her whole figure 
stricken with passion of her sorrow; and raising her tear- 
stained face to Heaven she entreated in the agony of her de- 
spair that the Lord might spare her gentle mother. 

“ What shall I do,” she said between her heart-broken sobs, 
“ if Mother dies. No father, no mother, no brother, no sis- 
ter, and I so inexperienced and penniless, too. ... I must be 
brave for the present for Mother’s sake.” 

She walked toward the window ; the night was bitterly cold, 
the stars shone brightly in the Heavens, the moon was flitting 
by as if bound to reach some unknown shore. 

“ Just like our lives,” said Butterfly sadly, “ flitting from 
this life to the great unknown region beyond, from which no 
one has ever returned to tell us the great mystery.” 

Just then the door opened and Molly came in. “ Poor 
child,” she said kindly, “ this is awful for you. Miss Butter- 
fly. Let me put you to bed; a rest will do you good.” 

“ Just think, Molly,” said Butterfly, “ two days more will 
be Christmas. I wonder if the sun will shine for me, or go 
out of my life forever.” 

“ Let us hope the sun will shine for you,” said Molly, with 
tears streaming down her cheeks. And helping Butterfly to 
undress she tucked the trembling form into her snowy white 
bed. “Who knows but the morrow may bring good news?” 
said Molly soothingly. 

“ If it would only bring back Mother’s health, how happy 
we will be again.” 

Butterfly, being exhausted, was soon wrapped in doleful 
slumbers. Molly sat watching the lovely face that was now 
feverish, the golden hair that was tossed carelessly on the pil- 

i8 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


low. “ What a pity,” thought Molly, “ that so young and 
fair a creature should have to bear such sorrow.” 

Scarcely were the words spoken when the nurse came rush- 
ing up the stairs, — breathless and excited. 

“Come, Miss Fields, hurry, — quick, quick! You will not 
find your mother alive,” were the wild, excited words that 
sounded like a death-knell on the peaceful night. 

Speechless with terror, the slumbering form awoke. Molly 
threw a dressing-robe around her ^and she staggered down the 
stairs to the sick room where the angel of death stood waiting. 
Two doctors were in close attendance upon the pale brave pa- 
tient who was never to see the light of another day. 

“ I want my daughter,” she whispered as Butterfly entered 
the room. She turned her wistful eyes toward her child, and 
never until her dying day will Butterfly forget that look. She 
opened her arms to her. “ Daughter,” she cried, “ I am going 
to die. Come to me; let me die in your arms. . . . How 
long have I to live? ” she asked in faint tones of the physicians. 
“ Is my life to be counted by hours or by minutes? ” 

“ By hours,” replied the surgeon sadly. 

“ Then leave me with my daughter alone. . . . Oh, daugh- 
ter,” she whispered, “ I love you so well, and I have to leave 
you. I must die.” She drew the fair golden head upon her 
breast. Butterfly saw great drops of moisture on the white 
brow, and she sobbed aloud in untold agony. “ I want you 
to think of me all the rest of your life as your fond and loving 
mother who did everything she could for you. Do not bury 
me in that gloomy vault where my ancestors lie. I could not 
rest there. Bury me in the little village churchyard where the 
sun shines, and the dew and rain fall. I have had little sun- 
shine in life, let its glorious rays shine over my resting-place. 
I would not be sorry to die if it were not for you, dear. I 
have heard voices calling me that no one else seemed to hear.” 

19 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


She was failing fast, the whispered words grew fainter, then 
last of all she said, “ Promise me that when the cold world 
frowns upon you, a poor orphan child, and when you are walk- 
ing through its rugged path fighting for the bread of life, and 
when the sharp thorns shall wound your tender heart, and at 
times when life looks dismal and trials and temptations cross 
your path, promise me that you will be brave, my dear daugh- 
ter, and then not only will yorur deeds be rewarded in this 
life, but on the great eternal morning when all us poor mor- 
tals shall stand trembling side by side. Let me hope, dear 
child, you will be numbered on the roll of the army of mar- 
tyrs, and shine amongst them a radiant star. Promise me you 
will heed your mother’s warning.” 

“ I promise,” said Butterfly, with a wonderful effort to keep 
up courage. 

“ There is a distant relative of your Father’s on the south 
side of London,” her mother continued. “ He is a barrister. 
He loved your father; he might befriend you. I do not know 
the street nor the address. I have made few friends, as you 
know.” 

She gave one long gasp, as if trying to catch her breath, her 
head bowed and her sweet lips that poured forth such golden 
words were stilled forever. At the sound of Butterfly’s most 
bitter cry the watchers without returned. She was not dead 
then, but she died just as the sun was rising over the hill-top. 
One last ray lingered on her pale brow, and her lips were closed 
in an ethereal smile. 

Mrs. Fields was buried in the little churchyard in high 
ground where the first rays of the morning sun would brighten 
the spot where she lies. No one who had ever known Mrs. 
Fields could ever forget her, for her life had been full of kind 
deeds and generosity. In the glow of summer and the dew 
of autumn sweet flowers bloom on her grave. Yet they are no 
purer than the heart that has ceased to beat. 

20 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


After the funeral letters of sympathy continued to pour in 
to the bereft orphan, especially from the dear Sisters of the 
Convent of St. Bernard s and from many of her schoolmates. 
Miss Sutherland wrote: 

“My dear Miss Fields: Tears fall like rain-drops as I wrtle this 
epistle. Neither tongue nor pen can describe my sorrow, — which is 
sincerely from my heart,— in this dark hour for you. Great drops 
blur rny eyes; I can scarcely see the paper. Trouble comes to us all 
sometime in life, but it comes to you when you needed most a moth- 
er’s protecting hand. Let me be a sister to you, and let my home be 
your home. My mother extends to you her deepest sympathy and 
bids you a thousand times welcome. I want you always to remember 
that you will ever have a true friend in your own 

“ Jasmine.” 

When Butterfly read this consoling note she heaved a sigh. 

“ Dear me,” she murmured, “ how strange it is that I should 
have met a dear unselfish friend and a treacherous foe while 
I was at school. One’s love is as strong as the other^s hate. 
Jasmine is the dearest girl in all the world. I appreciate her 
great kindness, but not one morsel of the bread of charity 
shall ever enter my iriouth. I have hands and I shall use them. 
I have brains and I shall exert them. I shall remain in Ivy 
Cottage for at least a year, and then I shall go forth to seek my 
fortune. I know Molly will stay with me. She has a great big 
heart brimful of sympathy. I will go right now and ask her.” 

She went to where Molly was busy in the kitchen preparing 
the noonday meal. 

“ Molly,” said Butterfly, “ I have decided to remain in Ivy 
Cottage. Would you care to remain with me?” 

“ Yes,” said Molly, “ I shall always be pleased to be with you 
for your dear mother’s sake. Her kindness to me when I was 
stricken with scarlet fever I never shall forget. She nursed 
me with her own hands, and brought me from the jaws of 
death, and she did a number of other things for me that I 

21 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


will not mention.” • She saw that Butterfly was weeping. “ I 
am sorry, dear, if I have renewed your sorrow. I will try not 
to mention your dear mother’s name again.” 

“Oh, do not say that, Molly,” said Butterfly; “it some- 
times consoles me to talk of Mother. I must try and recover 
from this sorrow. Then I shall feel able to go to work.” 

“ What do you intend to do? ” asked Molly, somewhat sur- 
prised. 

“ I hope some day,” said Butterfly, “ to be a great artist.” 

“ I admire your ambition,” said Molly, “ but sometimes we 
cannot reach what we desire to be.” 

“If I fail I shall seek the next best thing. I have not 
thought over the matter seriously as yet.” 

“ Where do you intend to go? ” asked Molly. 

“To London,” was the decided reply. “ I have a relative 
in London on my father’s side; he may assist me.” 

“ What will you do if you cannot find him ? ” 

“ Why, go in search of work, — sketching or painting.” 

“ Dear child,” said Molly, trying to conceal her tears, “ you 
remind me of a young dove, scarcely yet in plumage, let loose 
in eastern skies, that does not know where to light.” 

“Yes,” said Butterfly, somewhat interested, “but many a 
young motherless dove has become a great carrier-pigeon.” 

“ That is true ; and many a one has flown away, become ex- 
hausted on the journey, lighted never more to rise.” 

“ Oh, Molly,” said Butterfly, who was now disheartened, 
“do not discourage me. I have nothing left but hands, and 
my brains. Do not try to destroy my confidence in them. What 
else is there for me to do? Ivy Cottage is leased for one more 
year, then my sojourn here is ended. I cannot maintain my- 
self here. I am forced to go, and if the worst comes, I shall 
meet it, you know, Molly. My mother’s income I do not in- 
herit after her death.” 

The faithful girl was now surprised at the child-woman, 

22 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


and she said, “ You have my best wishes,, and God be with 
you.” 

“ I know it,” said Butterfly, extending a white hand, with 
somewhat of the warmth of a sister. Then she returned to 
her room, more serious in thought than before. 

Times were very dull at Ivy Cottage. Molly tried to make 
it as pleasant as she could. Neighbors called ; some came some- 
times out of curiosity, while others pitied her with a pity sur- 
passing words. Butterfly kept within doors most of the time. 
She spent the long hours of solitude in giving reign to the artis- 
tic genius she inherited from her mother. So the weary year 
was spent at Ivy Cottage, and the time was at hand when she 
must say adieu to the home of her childhood. 

The world awoke to another Spring. The season brought 
forth green leaves to the trees, wild flowers to the woods, haw- 
thorns to the hedges, and love to young hearts. Happiness 
seemed everywhere; but to Butterfly it brought nothing except 
despair. 

“ Molly,” said Butterfly, “ this is our last morning in Ivy 
Cottage.” 

“ Yes,” said Molly, “ we have spent many a pleasant day 
here, and they may return for you.” 

“ No,” said Butterfly, who was now looking out over the 
flower-decked plains, “ those simple childhood days will never 
return. I must hurry and catch that early train.” 

Glancing outside she saw that the cab was already waiting. 
Her neighbors gathered around to give her their best wishes; 
some of them were astonished at her cheerfulness, and one old 
woman said she was hard-hearted, but ” childer ” soon forget 
their parents. Butterfly was resolute; she was determined to 
be brave. She had promised her mother so, and promises with 
her were not made to be broken. As the cab rolled up to the 
station they alighted, and Molly approached to say good-bye, 
for the train was now at hand. 

23 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


“ Dear child,” — Molly had always addressed her so, — “ if 
ever you are in trouble, and my small aid is of any use to you, 
it shall be my greatest pleasure to help you, or at least to com- 
fort and cheer you. Send for me. I shall fly to you on the 
wings of an arrow.” As she said these words her voice was 
choked with suppressed grief. 

“ Thank you,” said Butterfly, almost humbly. “ I can only 
appreciate your great kindness in words, but some future day 
I may have the honor to repay them by deeds,” and as the 
train puffed out its good-bye signal Butterfly took a longing, 
wistful glance at her home, hardly daring to hope that she 
would ever see it again, — the trees, the ground, and the gar- 
dens, all clothed with the light, fragrant mantle of spring, — 
and these words were on her lips: 

“You are not for me, you are mine no more, 

Other eyes will gaze thee fair 

And other hands will pluck thee rare.” 

As the words died upon her lips she burst into a flood of 
tears, which were wrung from her sorrowing heart. Two 
young men who were aboard the same train were touched by 
her grief. 

One of them laughingly said, “ Cheer up, my pretty little 
miss, there are better days a-comin’. There are lots of good 
times in the land of the free.” 

Then they sang one of those lively airs that soothes a dis- 
turbed heart. They belonged to the class of whole-hearted, 
hospitable Irishmen that one meets every day on Erin’s shore. 
They were bound for the land of freedom. The kind-hearted 
strangers soon disappeared, leaving her again with her gloomy 
thoughts until she reached the city of London, where she in- 
tended to start her life of independence. 

She watched the hurrying throng with childlike curiosity, for 
she had never been before in a great city like London. 

24 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


“ Why,” she mused, “ they are all running as if in search 
of an object,” but had she been a woman of the world, she 
would have known that they were all after the one object, — 
the mighty gold. 

She went directly in search of her father’s relative, but failed 
to find him in the place where her mother thought he resided. 
No trace of him could be found, so she went to Barristers-at- 
law, Lawyers, and Councillors to make inquiry; then she in- 
serted in a newspaper the following advertisement: 

Any tidings of Mr. Fields, Barrister-at-law, supposed to reside some- 
where in the south side of London, will be gladly received by his dear 
friend and cousin’s only daughter. 

Marion Fields, 

15 First St., 
South London. 

She waited patiently. The only account she got was that 
Mr. Fields had left some time before, and it was thought that 
he had gone to South Africa. His wife had died three months 
before he left. “ I can do no more,” Butterfly mused. “ It is 
too bad ; he might have assisted me.” 

Her heart beat fast with anxiety to know what the future 
held for her. Then began the fierce struggle against fate and 
poverty; her sole resource was her paint brush. Each morn- 
ing she was up at dawn and hard at work. Placing her easel 
near the window, to get all the benefit of the light she could, 
she exerted her brains to think of novel and quaint designs, and 
she succeeded even beyond her hopes. 

“ I am delighted with these,” she murmured, with much 
glee. “ I know they will sell well. I hope some day to be 
famous. I would like to do some good work, and hear them 
tell me that I have not lived in vain.” 

The golden sun sank slowly and found Butterfly still at her 
work. 

“ I will stop now,” she murmured, as her eyes were beginning 

25 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


to ache. “ I will go out and see the curious sights of London. 
To-morrow I shall see my sketches all finished, and I will carry 
them in triumph to their critical buyers.” 

She put her work away, and donned a black hat that showed 
her beauty off to perfection. Her golden hair was coiled be- 
hind her small head in a picturesque fashion, and her black dress 
was made as simply as possible. She walked along very slowly, 
and her glorious violet eyes were scanning the sights with much 
curiosity. Now and again she would hear a word of praise 
in her favor. She came to a little park, and with a sigh she 
turned in and sank wearily on one of the benches placed be- 
neath the trees. Few people were about; her thoughts were 
on herself and how she was suddenly thrown into the great 
big wmrld alone. Unexpectedly a man approached her. 

“ Pardon me, Miss,” he said. “ Can you tell me the way to 
Saxon Street?” 

Butterfly w^as startled. “ I cannot, as I am a stranger in the 
city,” she replied. 

“How came you to be here alone in this big city? — and 
unchaperoned ? ” and he gave her a keen glance from his ra- 
diant starlike eyes. 

“ Destiny sometimes makes a careless chaperon, and I am 
one of her neglected daughters,” she answ^ered smilingly. 

“ You do not mean to tell me you are all alone,” he said. 

“ Yes, — alone,” she said, with a sigh. 

She observed more closely his strikingly handsome face, the 
features of which w^ere Grecian and the eyes of a deep starlike 
blue. His complexion w^as hardly as fair as his countenance 
was perfect. Despite all this. Butterfly felt a wave of dislike 
for this man pass through her mind. 

“May I ask where you came from?” he said. “If you 
will pardon my intruding so far.” 

“ I came from a pretty little nest amongst the ivy,” she an- 
swered laughingly. 


26 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


“ Oh, you did,” he said. “ Well, I have a pretty little nest 
too, and I want a mate,” giving her a smiling look from his 
beaming eyes. 

“ Have you a mother? ” she asked sadly, as she thought of 
her own dear mother. 

“ No,” he answered. 

She arose hurriedly as she saw that the dusk was fast ap- 
proaching. “ I must go,” she said. 

“ Pardon me, but may I venture to ask before you go where 
you came from? ” and his voice was deep and earnest. 

“ I came from the little Isle that has produced so many brave 
men,” she answered, as she thought of her soldier father in 
his far-off lonely grave, where the desert wind chants his 
requiem and which the God of Mercy does not neglect. 

“Indeed! Well, then, you are of soldier extraction?” he 
said inquiringly. 

“ Yes,” she said, “ but you must excuse me. I have to go.” 

“ One moment,” he said, and exhibiting a card-case he 
pulled from its contents a card, and handing it to her he con- 
tinued : “If you will allow me, in the future I may prove a 
friend to you. I am always interested in unprotected women.” 

She looked at the card and read the following words: 

“ Sir John Russel, 

“ Knighted with Honors by her Majesty.” 

He observed that her face was mantled by a blush of the 
deepest carmine, and her eyes were just like the blue-eyed vio- 
lets, and he murmured to himself, “ She is a bewitching little 
creature.” 

Butterfly’s eyes kindled with thanks as she said, “ I cannot 
express my gratitude. Sir John Russel, for your kind offer.” ^ 

“ Don’t mention it,” he said. “ If you will allow me, I will 
see you home in safety.” 

“ Many thanks,” she said sweetly, “ but — ” 

“ But what? ” he said. 


27 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


“ I will often have to be thrown on my own resources, and 
I had better get used to it.” 

“ Do not worry about that,” he said, soothingly. “ Spring 
brings its beautiful foliage, and who knows what the month of 
roses may bring? ” 

He walked home with her to the door of her dwelling-place, 
then he touched his hat respectfully, and wished her lots of 
success in her new life. Butterfly was delighted with the kind 
offer of her new-found friend. 

“ Providence has repayed me the kindness, for many are 
the tired travellers I have cheered,” she murmured, and as she 
entered her room she hummed softly one of Molly’s hymns: 

“ Oh, my soul is going to shine, going to shine. 

Oh, my soul is going to shine, going to shine, going to shine 
By the great white throne. 

Oh, my soul is going to shine. 

And I shall live in Heaven some day.” 

Another morning dawned, sultry, for in smoky London the 
air was far from being the balmy air around Ivy Cottage. But- 
terfly, light of heart, prepared to give the finishing touches to 
the artist designs she had just manufactured, but her hopes and 
her ambitions were soon blighted, for she had spent her first 
day in London travelling wearily through the smoky streets, 
with her precious paintings and cards held carefully beneath her 
arm. She went to every color shop and artist’s emporium she 
could find, but the pictures were viewed in a half-contemptu- 
ous, half-pitying manner, and she was told that there was no 
sale for such things nowadays, or that the market was over- 
stocked. With a discouraged shudder of fatigue. Butterfly 
had wended her way home. She put the pictures away care- 
fully and dropped wearily into a chair. She felt a lump rise 
in her throat, and tears streamed down from her eyes. 

“Oh, Mother; Mother!” she cried, “why had you to go 
28 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


and leave me? We were so happy. Oh, the people are so 
cold and rude.” 

Then she resolutely dashed away her tears, for she had re- 
solved to be brave, and she rose to her feet. To wail for her 
mother was useless, since she could never come to her child. 
Suddenly she heard a sound as if someone had called her name. 
She listened. It was Mrs. Carr, with whom she boarded. She 
glanced at the clock; it was indeed past dinner-time. 

“ I must wash those tears away; no one must know my 
trouble.” 

She hurried down-stairs, with a sweet smile on her face, but 
there was a dull aching in her heart. 

“ I must persevere,” she mused. “ Rome was not built in a 
day.” 

Day after day she walked wearily through the hot streets 
going where she thought she might have a chance of finding 
employment. She got promises, but that was all. 

“What shall I do?” she murmured. How suddenly the 
beautiful world had changed for her. 

“ Heaven help me,” she murmured. 

More than one person stopped to look at the sweet pathetic 
face, as she wended her way along in the gloaming with a mist 
before her eyes. Her brain was cloudy. 

“ Where am I ? ” she mused. “ Why, I have lost my way. 
I thought I was near home.” 

As she entered a street in a fashionable part of London she 
walked along to see if she could find a policeman, or someone 
to direct her to the right road. She was attracted by a young 
lady, fashionably gowned, who was leaning on the arm of an 
elderly gentleman. She thought she recognised his face, but 
it was dark, and observing more closely, to her surprise she 
saw that it was Sir John Russel. He did not see her, but this 
little maiden had all the curiosity of Mother Eve, and pulling 
her hat over her eyes, she followed in his footsteps. The 

29 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


young lady was tall, and aristocratic-looking, but not pretty. 
She was gowned in violet silk, which was very becoming to her 
dark olive complexion. 

“ Papa,” she said haughtily, “ who shall escort me to Lady 
Iva’s festival? My governess?” 

“ No, my dear,” he answered ; “ your father shall have the 
pleasure of your company. Your governess is too young, and 
not a fit chaperon. I shall procure for you a more worldly 
one. It will take a great deal of care off my mind. You are 
very young, and inexperienced, and with no mother you must 
be careful.” At these words his head bowed. 

Butterfly stepped back surprised at what she heard. “No 
mother,” she repeated to herself; “it is sad, but she has a 
wealthy father, and can afford to have a worldly chaperon. 
Ah, me!” she cried. “I have no father, nor mother. I am 
homeless, friendless, and alone. I cannot even console myself 
by seeing the grave of my beloved mother, nor can I see the 
face of some dear, kind friend once more.” 

She at last found her way to her own cheerless abode, and 
when she entered her little room her eyes were moist with 
unshed tears. She pressed her two small hands against her 
heart. 

“ Oh, Mother, Mother! ” she cried. “ My soul is weary. 
I am so wretched, so wretched without you.” She shut her 
lips firmly, as if to keep the cry from forcing itself between 
them. “Oh, Heaven help me! What shall I seek next?” 

She threw herself wearily into a chair, and sobbed out her 
heart-rending grief. Mrs. Carr heard the faint sobbing, and 
entering, was astonished to see the sweet, bright girl weeping 
pitifully and trembling like an aspen leaf. Mrs. Carr ap- 
proached the girl and said kindly: 

“ Tell me, dear child, the cause of this great grief. Is there 
anything wrong at home? ” 

The very words “at home” increased Butterfly’s weeping; 

30 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


she thought to herself, “ That is a thing of the past.” Then 
making a brave effort to suppress her tears, she said : “ I am 

so wretched, so lonely without my dear mother. Can you 
blame this little lonely maiden of seventeen summers, weary 
and wretched, she who was the rarest flower in her balmy 
home, and who is now thrown to the waves of the world, like 
a buoy on the ocean, with no guide.” 

No sleep came to Butterfly that night. She exhausted her- 
self by trying to think of some new plan by which she could 
earn a living. She had confidence in her art, if she could find 
some one to assist her. She thought of Sir John Russel. He 
had promised to help her. When the sun arose she left her 
room, for she was tired of lying there awake. She went out 
to inhale the morning air; it was fresh and invigorating. 

“ I will go to the park,” she mused, “ and listen to the birds 
sing.” 

She walked along trying to forget her despair until she came 
to a beautiful park called Regent Park. The gaily plumaged 
songsters of the park made the early morning ring with their 
sweet music. They seemed to rejoice in the verdure of the 
trees and in the perfume of many flowers that was wafted to 
them by the soft south winds that fanned and kissed them. 

At one time Butterfly would have called this a scene of 
Paradise, but now to the weary, solitary girl it only brought 
back memories of other days. She was so deeply miserable this 
morning that it seemed to her as if the singing birds, and the 
sweet flowers, and the glorious sunshine, and everything else 
in nature seemed to mock her woe. 

“Oh, memory, torture me no more; 

The present’s all o’er-cast, 

My hopes of future bliss are o’er, 

In mercy veil the past.” 

She arose. Her thoughts were maddening, and she walked 

31 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


hastily away, but at length a voice spoke close to her ear, in 
tones deep and full of music. 

“ And softly o’er her senses stealing 
Came a sound of music sweet.” 

At the sound of the voice she turned her head, and saw her 
friend Sir John Russel. He extended his hand and his face 
was beaming with w^elcome. 

“ I am glad yet surprised to find you here. Miss Fields,” 
he said. 

“ I am taking the benefit of the morning air,” she answered, 
and her sad face renewed its beauty with a hopeful smile, and 
the thought flashed through her mind, “ Thank God, my chance 
has come.” 

Sir John observed the sweet face, and he saw that the roses 
had faded and that the lilies were blooming in their place. 

“ How do you like the mighty city of London ? ” he asked 
in that wonderfully modulated voice of his. “ I presume you 
are achieving great success at your art.” 

“ I am very sorry to tell you. Sir John, that I have achieved 
anything but success, and my hopes and ambitions are de- 
pressed,” said Butterfly meekly. 

“ Indeed ! I am very sorry to hear it. Miss Fields, and 
you must allow me to help you,” said Sir John. 

The glad tears of surprise and joy filled Butterfly’s violet 
eyes. “How good you are, how good you are,” she cried in 
a low tremulous voice. “ How can I thank you enough? ” 

“ Oh, do not mention it,” Sir John answered, with a smile, 
and no pang of regret entered his wicked heart as he looked 
upon his trusting victim’s tear-wet face. 

“You must excuse me. Miss Fields,” said Sir John. “I 
cannot tarry long this morning. I breakfast with Sir Charles 
Edwin at the Mansion House. You shall hear from me im- 
mediately. Be happy until then.” 

32 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


Butterfly promised, and a great load was lifted from her 
heart. She returned home, if home you may call it, with a 
lighter heart. She mused : “ A bright future still awaits me, 

for the kindest and most amiable gentleman in all England has 
offered to assist me. How good and thoughtful he is.” 

Once more in her room with her beloved art, a true joy it 
was to her. It was her only hope now, for the greatest joys 
of her life had been taken from her. She had always found 
pleasure in her dearly loved art, and she prayed a thousand 
times that she could get work to do ; and placing her easel once 
more beneath the skylight, she worked diligently. 

“ I must attain all the skill I can,” she mused. “ I don’t 
know what I may be called upon to do. My only chance has 
come, and I must grasp it.” 

Butterfly was unconscious of everything save her work, but 
her head was feverish and ached badly; her past adventures 
had been very trying. The evening star had just made its 
appearance in the heavens, and another weary day was ending. 
Butterfly sighed a little, and pressed her hand to her head, it 
ached so; then she arose and walked to the window. 

“ I must get a breath of air,” she murmured. “ I feel faint.” 

As she looked out of the window she saw a messenger boy 
coming in the direction of the house. “ I wonder if he has 
anything for me,” she thought, and in a minute more Mrs. 
Carr handed her a letter. 

It was from Sir John Russel, and her heart jumped with 
glee as she tore the letter open and read: 

My dear Miss Fields: I dine at the Mansion House at one o’clock 
to-morrow afternoon. May I hope for the pleasure of your company? 
I shall await you in the reception room. I have news for you. An- 
swer by messenger. 

Sincerely yours, 

John Russel. 

As Butterfly read the letter over she went into ecstasies of 

33 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


joy. Never once did she doubt this gentleman. “ He has 
good news for me,” she murmured. “ I wonder what it can 
be. Joy comes after sorrow. If my mother were only with 
me my happiness would be complete. As it is this news has 
made me very happy.” 

This fair lovely girl looked like a blighted snowdrop that 
had revived quickly with care and sunshine. A new born 
day had come, and never did Butterfly look fairer than on this 
day. Her sweet face, so young yet lately clouded with so 
much sorrow, was happy in her new hope. Her beautiful eyes 
that had shed endless tears looked like sweet violets that had 
been kissed by the sun in the morning dew. Her simple black 
dress was a striking contrast to her hair of golden hue. That 
day as she dallied over her elaborate and daintily served lunch- 
eon she told Sir John of her trying adventures, of how she had 
walked the streets day by day, and of how heartless and rude 
the people had been. 

“ However, I can only give you a slight description of it, 
Sir John,” she said wearily. 

He listened attentively. “ The proverbial story of an 
artist’s ill fortune,” he said sympathetically. 

“ You said in your letter you had good news for me. Sir 
John,” said Butterfly, in her childlike eagerness. 

“ Yes, I did,” he answered thoughtfully. 

“ And of course I am dying to know what it is,” she said. 

“ My secretary leaves for the West Indies on a flying busi- 
ness trip,” he replied. “ I am very anxious that you should 
take his place. My business at the present time is not very 
urgent, — only to answer my correspondence.” His keen eyes 
were quick to see a slight disappointment flit over Butterfly’s 
face, and he knew at once what would please her. “ And then 
I want you to paint Clyde House, and the old-fashioned gar- 
dens, where the clear, dancing chattering waters of the Thames 
are flowing ever through their grounds, sporting with willows 

34 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


that trail upon its bosom, and whispering love tales to the 
flowers.” 

Butterfly gave a bewitching little laugh. “ How romantic, 
Sir John. I shall be delighted to exert all my skill to do 
honor to that romantic spot.” 

“ I shall let you know in a week from now,” said Sir John, 
“ so be ready.” 

“ Thank you,” said Butterfly, and her eyes showed gratitude 
deeper than words. But alas, poor child! she little knew for 
what this scheming gentleman was planning. He thought this 
beautiful helpless victim was an easy prey. 

Butterfly had made many sketches of the beautiful convent 
of St. Bernard’s, with its stately trees and spacious grounds of 
artistically arranged flowers that lent the place an enchantment 
that one could not easily forget. As Butterfly gazed on this 
scene she murmured to herself: “ It may resemble Clyde 
House and the romantic spot that Sir John wishes me to paint. 
I will practise on it.” 

Butterfly worked hard, but work was easy to her now, and 
her soul was filled with gratitude. Five days later a boy 
brought her the following note from Sir John: 


Dear Miss Fields: I have changed my plans. My secretary does 
not go now, but I will keep my promise to you. 

Meet me at 5 P. m. at the same place in the Mansion House, and 
we can then talk matters over. 

Sincerely yours, 


Russel. 


As Butterfly finished the letter a series of expressions flitted 
over her fair face; tenderness gave place to doubt, and hap- 
piness was succeeded by disappointment. 

“ He ought not to ask me to meet him like this,” she sighed. 
“ Oh, if mother were here to tell me what to do. Still, he 
is my only friend, and he may prove to be a true one. I can- 
not miss this opportunity. I will go.” 

35 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


As she walked with her companion around the magnificent 
grounds of the Mansion House she was enchanted by the beauty 
of the landscape, its sparkling waters, the sweet strains of 
melodious music, the intoxicating perfume of the bright-hued 
flowers, and the nightingale and thrush that were singing rival 
songs. 

She turned to her companion and said : “ I am indeed a 

lover of nature. If I only could describe the thousand charms 
that dwell within my bosom; if I could only forget the past, 
and live in the present enchanting bliss.” 

“ A tender-hearted little Butterfly like you cannot have any 
past,” said Sir John. 

“ A young girl, a stranger and alone in a big city like Lon- 
don, must expect to have trials. Sir John,” she said sweetly. 

“ I think you are a foolish little Cinderella that you do not 
enjoy life,” said Sir John. 

“ Only the daughters of wealth can enjoy life and repose 
in luxury,” said Butterfly, viewing the landscape around her, 
for it was a rest to her tired eyes. 

“ But the daughters of the Gods have equally the same ad- 
vantage,” said Sir John. 

“ Then I am not favored,” said Butterfly smilingly. 

He stooped down and plucked for her a red rose that bowed 
and nodded with the gentle breeze. “ Be my fair rose,” he 
said with an obeisance, “ and you shall not regret it.” 

Butterfly’s face mantled with a crimson hue, and she hesi- 
tated a moment. “Those words need explanation. Sir John,” 
she said. 

He turned around and surveyed the landscape. “If you will 
be my companion, you shall live in the enchanting bliss you 
speak of.” 

“You mean, you mean, as your wife? ” asked Butterfly anx- 
iously. 

“ It is all the same, only there is no license,” 

36 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


Butterfly paused for a moment. She thought of her dog 
Dash; poor faithful dog, how often she had paid his license, 
and this gentleman was now comparing sacred marriage to a 
mere dog license. She drew back with a shudder, her face 
grew as pale as the lily that was growing near by, and for a 
moment the fair scene before her was blotted out. 

Words came to her at last. “ So you are the gentleman 
who promised to assist me,” she said, with pity and indignation. 

He stepped forward as if to save her from falling. 

Butterfly’s lips trembled as she said : “ Relieve me, sir, 
of your obnoxious presence. A man like you is but a soulless 
knave, and a clog upon the beautiful wheel of time. The very 
fact that I am a motherless and friendless orphan should ap- 
peal to your manhood.” 

“ The very fact that you are a motherless and friendless 
orphan increases my love,” he answered, almost devouring her 
wdth his eyes. 

Butterfly turned away, with a low moan of anguish, and 
with a prayer upon her lips. She returned to her East Side 
room, like a young martyr, bravely meeting her fate. She 
thought of the words of her dying mother: “ Promise me that 
when the cold world frowns upon you, and when life looks 
dismal, and trials and temptations cross your path, you will 
be brave, and on the great eternal morning you shall be re- 
warded.” 

She raised her thoughtful, uplifted face to Heaven, and said 
sadly : “ Though my crosses they are great, I will accept the 

trials sent me even to the darkest fate.” 

And the only sound that broke the silence was the gentle 
sigh of the night wind. 

In the hour of my distress 

When temptations me oppress, 

And when I my sins confess, 

Sweet spirit, comfort me. 

37 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


When I lie within my bed, 

Sick at heart, and sick in head. 

And with doubts discomforted. 

Sweet spirit, comfort me. 

— Robert Herrice. 

Poor child, she stood uncomforted in this dark hour; her 
dreams of bliss had vanished like a fragrant rose that had 
bloomed and withered, leaving behind it sharp thorns. 

Butterfly’s innocent trusting nature had been deceived by 
false illusions; week by week she had framed hopes, and now 
they were dead. 

“ What shall I turn my hand to next? ” she sighed. “ I am 
like a shipwrecked sister that has been tempest-tossed out on 
the stormy sea. I have stretched my hand for aid, and aid 
has been refused me. I have clung to hopes and now they have 
vanished, leaving behind them false mockeries. If my mother 
had lived, her child would never have been exposed to the rude 
blasts of insults and poverty, but I, a friendless orphan, am 
learning the world’s hard lesson. As she uttered those words 
she fell on the floor in her room unconscious; fate seemed to 
whirl her from misfortune to misfortune. She could not re- 
member how she spent that night, but she awoke only to real- 
ise that the gloom of sickness had threatened her with fever. 

Mrs. Carr wondered what kept Butterfly in her room that 
morning; she had always been an early riser. “ I will go and 
see at once,” thought she. 

Butterfly was crouched by the window when Mrs. Carr 
entered; she was too ill to speak and she moaned with the 
agony of pain in her head and eyes. 

Mrs. Carr took in the situation in a glance. She called 
to Ann, her washerwoman : “ Help me to lift this child into 

bed.” 

“Oh, Los,” said Ann, “is she dyin’?” Her good-natured 
red face was full of sympathy. “ Will I go for the doctor. 


38 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


But Mrs. Carr shook her head, “ It ain’t nothing but ex- 
haustion and debility as they call it; she has got a sort of low 
fever. She will be all right in a few days. See, Ann, what 
a mass of hair the child has.” 

The woman brushed the stray locks of golden hair from 
Butterfly’s flushed face and spread the rest away from her so 
that she might not feel it an inconvenience. 

The next day came a letter from Molly, which was most 
welcome, as it brought her news from her dear sweet home 
that was hers no more. It read: 


Dear Miss Fields: I hope you are doing well in your new life. 
The gardens and grounds around Ivy Cottage are like fariyland, but 
there is one thing missing, and that is your presence. Oh, Butterfly, 
if you only knew how you are missed! Every one is asking for you. 
How you are doing? I am afraid you are forgetting us all, you 
are so taken up with your new life. I send you a little token that I 
hope will not sadden you ; it is some faded sweet forget-me-nots and 
lilies that have lent their beauty to deck your dear mother’s grave. 
Let me know how you have progressed with your art, for I expect 
great things of you. 

Kindly write to me immediately, as I am very anxious to know 
how you are doing. 

Faithfully yours, 

Mollie. 


^ V 

When she had finished reading the letter a strange sensa- 
tion crept into her heart; a mixture of joy and sorrow and 
thoughts she could not put into words. Two great tears 
rolled down her cheeks and fell with a splash upon the faded 
flowers. Butterfly kissed them again and again. 

“ Dear little flowers,” she mused. “ Mother Nature sent 
you to earth, and from your beauty and fragrance I can learn 
a lesson. Your beauty has brightened many a sad heart and 
decked many a lonely grave, and your fragrance has lent the 
air a delightful, lingering perfume, and your message here is 
well done and ended. May I too by my kind deeds brighten 


39 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


the troubled way for some poor forsaken wanderer, and may 
my kind words linger in their memory?” 

As she folded up the precious fragments, the words arose 
on her lips: 

In a sun-kissed Ivy Cottage, 

Amongst the flowers and dells for me, 

Where I roved in merry childhood, 

Where I fain would be, 

Birds and flowers were my companions, 

But fate prevailed that I should roam, 

To seek bread amongst strangers, 

Far away from my dear home. 

Four days of gloomy sickness had passed, during which time 
Butterfly lay in bed, too weak to speak, or even sit up, but one 
morning she had a change for the better, and then she im- 
proved rapidly. 

“ How very kind and good you are,” she said to Mrs. Carr, 
gently stroking the latter’s silvery locks. “ How can I thank 
you enough?” 

But Mrs. Carr moved away abruptly. “ I do not need 
any thanks,” she said. “ I am always willing to lend a help- 
ing hand to the sick.” 

Butterfly gained her strength again, but the past few weeks 
had left their trace behind. 

“ I must forget the unpleasantness of the past,” she mur- 
mured, “ and look my future in the face. What course shall 
I pursue next in order to make my living? In spite of my 
bitter struggles I still cling to hopes of achieving success with 
my dearly loved art, and,” — taking a wistful glance around 
her at the neatly furnished room, — “ I cannot afford this lux- 
ury. I must look for a cheaper room, as my purse is getting 
scant.” 

The weather was very hot and stuffy, which makes life un- 

40 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


bearable for the needy poor in London. The fashionable peo- 
ple had left the city, to seek refreshing air and nature’s beauty 
in the country. 

Butterfly sniffed as she passed through the poor, stuffy 
streets. “ Oh,” she exclaimed, “ how do those poor people 
live here! What a smell.” 

She had been reared in the fragrant arms of nature. As 
she watched the poor little suffering children in their squalid 
rooms trying to gasp for breath her heart swelled with pity. 
There was a time when she could have helped them, but that 
time had passed. She needed help herself now. 

“ How little I knew,” she murmured, “ about this great 
world of misery.” 

A little farther up on the west side she rented a room. The 
house was brightened by the clinging ivy, but Ann Baxton, 
its mistress, was not very charming; she was a stout middle- 
aged woman that shouted rather than spoke. She was a widow 
with an invalid child, and her heart was hardened by the 
cares and trials of the world. She washed for a living and 
her greatest boast was that her clothes were whiter and better 
washed than were those at any other laundry in the city. 

“ Do you think you shall like it here? ” shouted the laundress 
rather than asked. 

“ Oh, yes,” returned Butterfly with a smile. “ I try to 
make myself at home everywhere I go.” 

As she uttered the last word her lips trembled. “ Then 
you’ll come hack,” shouted the laundress. 

“ Without fail,” returned Butterfly. 

“ Come here. Miss, and see me little invalid daughter.” 

Butterfly stepped into an untidy, ill-ventilated room, and 
here sat crouched by the window a hopeless invalid. 

“ Anna,” said the mother in abrupt tones, “ this lady is goin’ 
to stay with us.” 

The little girl’s great melancholy eyes lingered on Butter- 
41 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


fly, and then turning sadly to her mother, she said pleadingly, 
“ Why did not God make me like this pretty lady? ” 

Butterfly glanced at the mother, then said to Anna, “ My 
dear, some day wou will be well and strong, and then you 
will be like me.” 

But the little girl shook her head. “ That day won’t ever 
come for me. Do angels play with you when you die and go 
to them?” she asked, her sad eyes full of wonder. 

“ I think they do,” said Butterfly, trying to hide her tears. 
“ Angels are all goodness and love.” 

A peculiar smile played around Anna’s mouth, and a strange 
light shone in her eyes. “ The children round here don’t play 
with me because I am sick, and my mother has no time.” 

By this time Butterfly was softly weeping; she could say 
no more, and she turned away. The little girl’s mother did 
not seem touched. 

“ You must not mind that child; she is always dreaming and 
saying queer things,” said her mother. 

As Butterfly found her way back through the sultry, smoky 
streets of London her mind was ill at ease. She thought her- 
self a feather of misfortune, whirled about like a plaything. 
But this poor girl Anna! Her condition was deplorable, — 
she was a poor and hopeless invalid, the children did not care 
to play with her because she was sick, and her mother had 
no time to love her, so she passed many lonely, weary hours 
listening for the bells of Heaven to ring and call her from this 
loveless world. 

“ What a coarse, hard-hearted mother she has,” thought 
Butterfly. As she entered her boarding-house she met Mrs. 
Carr on the stairs. 

“ Why, child,” exclaimed the astonished woman, “ you look 
as if you had been drawn through a knot hole. Are you ill 
again? ” 


42 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


“ No,” said Butterfly, trying to be cheerful. “ But I am 
sorry to tell you, Mrs. Carr, that I have to leave you.” 

“You have to leave me!” said the woman, looking at her 
somewhat surprised. 

So Butterfly told Mrs. Carr what had occurred in her vain 
endeavor to find employment in the great city of London. 

“What kind of work do you do?” said the woman, for 
it never dawned upon her that this beautiful girl had no means. 

“ They tell me,” said Butterfly meekly, “ I shall make a 
great artist some day.” 

“ Why, dear child,” said Mrs. Carr, “ you might as well be 
looking for a needle in a bundle of straw as trying to be an 
artist without means and alone. I am sorry for you; 3^ou have 
a tedious, rugged mountain to climb. I fear, my little beauty, 
you will find yourself many times on the brink of a precipice. 
I am sorry you are going. I would gladly help you if I could, 
but 'I have my own struggles,” and Mrs. Carr’s face looked 
firm though kind as she hurried down to get the evening meal. 

Butterfly, once more in her room, was glad to be alone, for 
she was weary in mind and body. 

“ Oh, dear,” she said, with a bitter sigh from her heart, as 
she gathered together her things for packing, “ how much 
longer will this struggle last?” 

If she only could remain where she was! The place was 
quiet, and Mrs. Carr never interfered in her affairs. 

“ But still I must go, though I know I shall not care for 
my new home. But there is one thing I can do,” murmured 
Butterfly, and her sweet face brightened. 

“ I can comfort and cheer the poor little Invalid girl whose 
mother has no time to love her.” 

Butterfly was soon ready to leave the humble but genteel 
home of Mrs. Carr. She had made up her mind to go that 
evening; it was not too late, — the sun had only just disap- 

43 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


peared in-the West. She must waste no more time, she must 
find employment, or the bitter struggle would be ended. And 
her mind went out to the vast great throngs of London, and 
her thoughts were, “ I am friendless amongst millions.” 

Butterfly told Mrs. Carr she had changed her mind, that 
she would leave her that evening. Mrs. Carr begged her to 
remain until morning. Butterfly was determined to go, and 
Mrs. Carr made no further remonstrance or effort to dissuade 
her. Butterfly bade Mrs. Carr good-bye. 

“ Good-bye,” answered the woman, “ and Heaven guide you 
on your path.” 

Butterfly turned away with her heart as heavy as stone. 
Having once more pushed her way through the crowded, hur- 
rying throng, back to the ill-kept, ill-ventilated room of Mrs. 
Baxton, Butterfly found the laundress much upset. 

“You will have to excuse this place. Miss,” said Mrs. Bax- 
ton as she dried her wet hands on her apron. “ My daughter 
has been ill again. She keeps me all my time a-nursing her,” 
and her voice was so shrill and loud that the passers-by looked 
up to see what was the matter. 

Butterfly mounted the tiny dark stairs that led to her shabby 
little room, — a room scarcely large enough to contain its cot 
bed. Through its windows came the foul odor of different 
factories. As she lay awake that night listening to the fight- 
ing and swearing of the rowdies around the corner, she prayed 
that at least her angel mother beyond the skies would take 
pity on her and release her from the mental agonies she was 
now enduring. The next morning when all the clocks in the 
steeples were chiming seven, Butterfly went forth on the same 
weary mission in search of employment. After having 
glanced through the morning papers, her face flushed with 
joy, as she read the following advertisement: 

Wanted. A governess for two grown children. Best of testimoni- 
als required. Call. All morning at Kembwell Hall. 

44 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


When Butterfly reached the grand old mansion she was sur- 
prised to find that fully a score of girls were already waiting 
to apply for the position. 

“There is little chance for me,” she murmured to herself. 

The girls all looked experienced, and the world’s lesson was 
printed on their faces. Butterfly was the fifth on the list. 
The master and the mistress of Kembwell Hall sat side by 
side. Mrs. Kembwell eyed Butterfly keenly through her 
glasses, and the poor girl trembled like a frightened bird under 
her gaze. Mrs. Kembwell made up her mind to be more se- 
vere, for she knew her son’s weakness for the beautiful. 

“ You are too young to be a governess,” said the mistress of 
Kembwell Hall in sharp tones. “ Have you had any experi- 
ence? ” 

Butterfly told her in her sweet, gentle way that she did not 
think from the advertisement that she needed an experienced 
governess. 

“ I stated in my advertisement grown children, and that 
ought to be sufficient,” declared the indignant mistress of Kemb- 
well Hall. 

“ Where do you live? ” asked the master of Kembwell Hall. 

“ I live in Dudlow Street, West Side.” 

“ Oh ! in the slums ! ” said the lady, horrified, and pulling 
away her silk and lace gown, “ I could not have you in my 
house.” 

Butterfly stood up; the spirited blood of a soldier race flowed 
through her veins. “ The poor are the chosen people of God, 
madam, and I prefer to be numbered amongst them rather 
than to be of the cold and heartless type to which you belong.” 
And the spirit and beauty of the girl surprised even the grand 
dame of Kembwell Hall. 

When Butterfly had left the room she stood for a moment 
outside. Her brain was cloudy. 

The furious, indignant Mrs. Kembwell turned to her hus- 

45 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


band. “Did you ever see such nerve, and audacity before?” 
she asked as she paced up and do'wn the room, and her husband 
tried to quiet her. “ George,” she said in angry tones, “ w^hy 
should such beauty be wasted on paupers? It only attracts 
the attention of the opposite sex for their ruin, — for their ruin, 
I said.” 

“ She is certainly the most beautiful girl I have ever seen,” 
declared the master of Kembwell Hall. 

“ But how did she ever dare to speak so to me! ” 

Meanwhile Butterfly was hurrying toward the entrance door 
of the mansion. A servant came to her assistance, and were 
it not for the free air from Heaven and the magnificence and 
beauty of the scene around Kembwell Hall (for nature’s beauty 
always soothed her) she would have swooned on the marble 
steps. As she gazed over ‘ the beautiful grounds everything 
seemed in harmony, — the birds sang merrily, the flowers bent 
and swayed in the fragrant breeze, the frisky deer were stalk- 
ing beneath the leafy shade, and the fair, white swan swam 
gracefully over Kembwell Lake. But why was the mistress 
of Kembwell Hall so cruelly heartless? Butterfly stopped for 
a moment to watch the swan float upon the silvery waters. 

“ White bird 1 ” she murmured, “ how wide is your path, 
and how narrow is mine. This great sheet of water is at your 
disposal, whilst I have scarcely a place to lay my head.” 

Suddenly she turned away, for in her state of mind she dared 
not think beside the silent silvery waters of Kembwell Lake. 
Had Butterfly looked in the opposite direction toward a •figure 
standing underneath the shade of the great oleanders, she would 
have seen a face gazing upon her in surprise and wonder, and 
such a face was not easily forgotten. The great dark eyes 
were marvelously beautiful and appealing in expression, the 
dark clustering curls were as dark and glossy as the raven’s 
wing, the tall figure was striking on account of its easy grace, 
its erect, firm vigor, and its youth. The young man gazed 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


upon Butterfly in profound wonder as she stood by the side 
of the water, and he wondered why her lips moved. 

“ She must be in trouble,” he thought. He had seen many 
fair faces in the new world and in the old, but he had never 
seen a face like hers before. Superb in its childish beauty, 
magnificent in its exquisite coloring, but sorrow looked out 
from those violet eyes. 

“ Why should so young and fair a creature know sorrow? ” 
he mused. 

He looked after the retreating figure as Butterfly was just 
disappearing. He hesitated a while, and then he declared to 
himself, “ I must find out who she is.” 

Back to her humble, desolate lodging returned the bewitch- 
ing little beauty, and right in her footsteps returned Arnin 
Kembwell, son and heir of Kembw^ell Hall. As he came face 
to face with Butterfly his heart throbbed and his face paled. 
“Good Heavens,” he muttered hoarsely, “what a shock! For 
an instant it seemed to me that I stood face to face with my 
dead love, — dear, sweet Violet.” 

For a moment his conscience reproached him, and then he 
laughed a soft mellow laugh ; but it was not from his heart. 

“ How weak I am,” he thought, “ almost womanish. The 
dead cannot return from their bed of clay to reproach the liv- 
ing nor tell tales, and I still can boast of my unblemished 
name. Few men in my position but have sipped from the cup 
of dissipation. Yet not one breath of scandal has been breathed 
against the fair old name of the Kembwells.” 

Ye6. Arnin Kembwell knew full well how to cover scan- 
dal. He was a clever actor, and he knew what part to play. 
Moreover, he had a large income. “ With money,” he said 
to his valet, “ you can cover a multitude of sins.” 

“ Yes,” the old valet replied, — he had helped to cover many 
of his master’s crimes, — “ but it leaves a nasty scar behind 
when uncovered, a scar that is sickening, almost heart-rending.” 

47 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


Arnin Kembwell laughed in scorn. “You are always quot- 
ing proverbs to me, Valley. Never mind, w-e can forget all 
those things in the wine-cup.” 

Arnin Kembwell was idolized, almost worshipped, by his 
mother. 

“ What Arnin does must be right,” she said. 

She knew he was daring and reckless, but that always goes 
with youth, she thought. He was flattered and admired by 
fair women, and he was considered by his friends to be a jolly, 
good fellow. When Butterfly reached her humble abode she 
found Anna Baxton, the little invalid girl, sitting outside the 
door trying to get a breath of air. The child looked more 
fragile than ever before, — she seemed to be wasting away. 
Butterfly thought. Anna’s great melancholy eyes brightened 
at the sight of Butterfly, and she extended a slender, bony 
hand. 

“You have come to stay?” asked the little girl as if her 
vv^hole future depended on the answer. “ You gladden my 
life as the merry, golden sunbeam brightens my lonely prison 
cell.” 

Butterfly forgot her own troubles for a moment, and laughed 
a low, silvery laugh. “ You strange little patient,” said But- 
terfly; “you are not a prisoner.” 

“ Oh, you do not quite understand me,” said the little girl 
meekly. “ I am a prisoner confined to my room until mother 
earns enough money to buy me a pair of crutches.” 

Suddenly they were interrupted by a gentleman with a clear, 
mellow voice. It was Arnin Kembwell, for they were so 
deeply interested in their conversation that they had not seen 
him standing close by. 

“ I beg your pardon if I am intruding,” said tbe handsome 
stranger, addressing the little invalid girl. “ As I was passing 
by I chanced to overhear a few words that attracted my atten- 

48 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


tion. Did I understand you to say you were in need of some- 
thing? ” 

His voice was full of music and sympathy as he looked into 
the sad, thin face. The little girl looked half dazed for a mo- 
ment. Butterfly was surprised at her pallor and frightened 
looks. 

“ Pardon me if I have hurt your feelings in any way,” said 
Arnin gently. 

“ Oh, no, sir, indeed; it is just the opposite. You see I am 
an invalid, and my mother has had to work very hard since 
my father’s death, and I have been her greatest care. I just 
told Miss Fields I am confined to my room until mother earns 
enough money to buy me a pair of crutches.” 

Arnin Kembwell was apparently touched by the sad story, 
and he patted her condescendingly on the head. “ I will see 
what I can do,” he said kindly, and Anna’s great melancholy 
eyes were filled with tears. 

“ What has happened ? ” she thought. Why should this 
handsome stranger waste so much kindness on me?” 

In the short existence of her lonely life no one had ever 
been so kind to her before; no one seemed to care- for her. 
She had overheard her mother say that she was a hopeless in- 
valid ; but she knew the angels loved her. 

“Have you any sisters?” asked Arnin. 

“ Yes,” replied Anna, and a faint smile played around her 
lips. “ I have three sisters and one brother in Heaven.” 

“You are not her sister then? ” said Arnin, addressing But- 
terfly in his rich, mellow voice. 

“ No ; but I intend to be one while I am with her,” replied 
Butterfly, and her violet eyes kindled with gratitude to the 
handsome stranger who had shown so much kindness to the 
poor little unfortunate, neglected child. “ What a noble act,” 
she thought. 


49 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


“Then you intend to remain here for some time?” asked 
Arnin. 

“ I expect to,” she replied, and her bright eyes saddened as 
she thought of her bitter struggles in the past. 

Arnin glanced from one to the other. “ What a contrast,” 
he thought. 

Butterfly was ethereal, enchanting, and beautiful ; Anna, 
the little invalid, was neglected, thin, with a sickening pallor. 
“ Why, her very aspect,” he declared to himself, “ takes an 
edge off my appetite; and her great melancholy eyes seem to 
read your inward thoughts.” 

“ I am afraid I am fatiguing you,” he said gently to the 
little girl. “ I shall call to-morrow ; that is, if you will per- 
mit me,” — in that condescending way of his that one could not 
resist. 

The color rose in Anna’s pale face, then died away, and left 
a deathlike pallor. 

“ I shall count the minutes until you come,” she said faintly, 
for she knew his return would bring what she had long wished 
for, — a pair of crutches. “ I can then go into the parks like 
other children,” she mused, “ and hear the beautiful songsters 
fill the air with their delightful music.” 

Turning to Butterfly, with a fascinating smile on his 
handsome face, Arnin- bade her farewell. He knew his 
charms. 

“ You will assist me to look after this little girl? ” 

“Yes,” replied Butterfly earnestly. “I will gladly help.” 

Then he touched his hat respectfully and took his de- 
parture. 

The two girls looked at each other spellbound. Anna spoke 
first. “This seems like a pleasant dream. Oh!” she cried, 
and her heart seemed too full of joy for expression, “ if I am 
only able to visit the old ruins and castles of England, and 
wander among the flowers like a child of nature, and listen 

50 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


to the wonderful sea moan and wail for its dead who lie be- 
neath its bottomless depths!” 

“What! dreaming again! ” broke in Mrs. Baxton abruptly, 
and her voice was so loud and harsh that she frightened her 
daughter almost into hysterics, as her nerves just then were all 
unstrung. 

Butterfly rushed to her room to get her smelling salts, which 
she always kept on hand for occasional headaches. Butterfly 
soon revived Anna. 

“ Help me to my room, please,” said the little girl faintly 
to Butterfly. 

“Are you all right now?” broke in her mother in more 
gentle tones. 

“ Yes, mother,” replied Anna; “ I will be all right in a little 
while.” 

Butterfly fixed Anna as best she could in her shabby little 
cot beside the window. 

“ Do you wish me to remain with you,” asked Butterfly 
sweetly. 

“No, thank you,” said Anna; “I will be all right."” But 
deep down in her heart she would have loved to have her stay, 
but she would not impose on her kindness. Butterfly and Mrs. 
Baxton withdrew. 

Butterfly told Mrs. Baxton of her daughter’s meeting with 
the handsome stranger. “ He overheard her say she was a 
prisoner in her room until you could earn enough money to 
buy her a pair of crutches.” 

“ Why, bless you, child,” declared Anna’s mother, “ the 
doctor says she can’t live another month. Let me see, this is 
the last of August; she will die with the fall of the leaf,” — 
with a sigh that hardly came from her heart. 

Butterfly, astonished, looked at the woman. 

“What is the matter, my little girl? Why do you look at 
me so?” said Mrs. Baxton. 


51 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


“ Because I did not know,” said Butterfly, “ that poor little 
Anna was doomed to die so soon,” and her eyes were filled 
with tears. 

“You may think me hard-hearted,” declared Mrs. Baxton 
loudly, “ but I will show you that I am right. What would 
become of my daughter Anna if I should die? What is there 
left in this hard-hearted world for a poor invalid. Her fate 
is hard indeed now, but what would it be if her mother died? 
— She tells you I have no time to love her. Why, bless you, 
there’s times when I can’t speak a prayer. I’ve had a bitter 
struggle since my husband was brought in dead to me, thir- 
teen years ago. I was left with five children, all small. Anna 
was born five months after her father’s death. Four of my 
children have gone to rest, and I am very glad my little invalid 
girl will too go home ere I am laid in the green grave yon- 
der. . . . What is ailin’ you, dear? Why, your sweet eyes 
are filled with tears. ... I must be goin’. I’ve got so much 
to do.” 

Butterfly returned to her wretched little room, — to think. 
She came to the conclusion that Mrs. Baxton was right, — 
it was better that her invalid child should go to the land where 
love is true and sunshine never fades than to be thrown on the 
mercy of the heartless world a forlorn wanderer; and then 
she thought of her own condition. 

Just then a newsboy shouted, '"Evening Times.'' Butter- 
fly called him. She wiped away the tears that lingered on her 
cheeks, and she ran down the tiny dark stairs to get the paper. 
Carefully and with an anxious look she pondered over the 
list of advertisements of help wanted. Finally she came to 
one that she thought would suit her, and her heart bounded 
with glee as she read the following words: 

Wanted. A lady of refinement, and well connected, as companion 
to a young lady. Call between the hours of ten and twelve at Turin 
Castle. 


52 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


“ Oh, I do hope,” said Butterfly earnestly, “ that I will get 
that position. I am about exhausted, and if luck does not 
change for me, I am afraid I shall go to the land where posi- 
tions are not needed.” She walked up and down her narrow 
little room wondering what would come to her. She stooped 
down and picked up a book that had been lying on the old 
dusty table. “ ‘ Poems by Thomas Moore,’ ” she read. “ I 
will try to forget my troubles in the old familiar melodies,” she 
mused. 

She read for some time, and suddenly the thought came to 
her, “ Probably Anna would like to have me read to her.” 

Butterfly went to the little girl’s room and asked if she 
would like to have her read aloud to her. Anna’s face bright- 
ened. “ I feel I am intruding on your time. Miss.” 

Her mother had always impressed upon her that time was 
very precious. 

“ No, I am not busy just now,” said Butterfly, “ and I shall 
spend my spare time with you.” 

“ Thank you,” said Anna, concealing her tears. 

Butterfly read interesting poems and sketches to her until 
they both watched the last streak of daylight fade away and 
the bright moon and evening stars take its place. They bade 
each other, “ Good night and pleasant dreams,” and each won- 
dered and hoped what the morrow would bring. 

The next morning the early rays of the morning sun pene- 
trated into Butterfly’s little narrow room, and the girl arose 
and dressed carefully. 

“ I must look my best,” she murmured, “ in order to be pre- 
sentable to those grand dames,” and her bright face clouded 
as she thought of the heartless mistress of Kembwell Hall. 

Then she remembered how the handsome stranger had prom- 
ised to return to see Anna sometime that day. ■ “ And I must 
be home in time,” she thought, “ for he looked on me as nurse,” 
and a blush mantled her sweet face. 

53 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


When Butterfly had completed her toilet she gave one shy 
glance at her own loveliness, and the sweet troubled face 
brightened by a faint hope. And with a prayer on her lips, 
she set out for Turin Castle. 

After much difficulty she reached her destination. She was 
much surprised to find Turin Castle a dilapidated old man- 
sion; it was not to be compared with the stately elegance of 
Kembwell Hall, but in bygone days it must have been a noble 
structure. All the glory and grandeur had departed from 
it years ago when Lady Heyburn died. As Butterfly made 
her way up the great entrance to the old castle she stopped 
suddenly. She thought she had heard a wailing cry that had 
come from the tree-tops. She listened ; it was not repeated, 
so she went her way, and rang the bell. It was answered by 
an old servant, very grave and reverent. 

“ Do you wish to see my Lady? ” he asked, with a bow. 

“ Yes,” replied Butterfly meekly. “ I wish to see the young 
lady who advertised for a companion.” 

“ Oh ! Her ladyship is out driving. Do you mind waiting 
a while?” 

“ No,” replied Butterfly, who was glad of the rest. 

” Come this way, Miss,” said the servant, leading the way 
to the reception room and passing many an ancient tapestry 
and warlike accoutrements. 

As Butterfly glanced from them to the priceless paintings, 
handed down from generations of Heyburns, she thought, 
” Such luxuries are not for the poor and lowly.” 

As the servant entered the reception room he told her to be 
seated, and his eyes lingered on the rare beauty of the girl. 

“ May I ask what strange species of birds dwell around this 
castle? I heard a wailing cry from the tree-tops that startled 
me, and it still lingers in my ear.” 

“What!” replied the servant, and his face turned as white 
as marble. ” Have you heard that strange wailing sound ? 

54 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


I have heard it twice this week. There is a legend about the 
castle, handed down from generations of Heyburns, that this 
wailing sound is a warning before a death,” and before he had 
time to finish the last sentence, the great door bell rang and 
he hurried away to answer the summons. 

It was Lady Isabel Heyburn and her young ward. Simon, 
the old servant, told Lady Isabel that a young lady awaited 
her in the reception room. 

“A visitor?” her ladyship demanded. 

“No,” replied Simon; “it is a young lady applying for a 
position.” 

“ Then why did you not tell me so? ” and she swept into the 
reception room. 

Butterfly sat by the window watching the many bright hued 
flowers that encircled the domain around Turin Castle, and 
filled the room with their sweet fragrance. The girl was 
startled by Lady Isabel’s sudden appearance. 

“ Did you come in reference to a position,” asked her lady- 
ship, and her voice had a cold ring. She pulled up the shades 
to throw more light on the scene, and complained that the serv- 
ants shirked their duty. 

“ Yes,” replied Butterfly timidly, as she shrank from this 
woman. 

Lady Isabel’s sight was very poor, and putting on her eye- 
glasses and looking rudely at Butterfly, she said : “ My ward 

is very particular in selecting a companion. She desires a lady 
that is highly educated, accomplished and plain of face. I am 
afraid you are too young. Are you well connected ? ” asked 
Lady Isabel. 

“ I am an orphan,” said Butterfly, “ friendless and alone.” 

Lady Isabel stared with wide open eyes. “ Friendless and 
alone,” .she repeated. Then she touched a button, and a serv- 
ant came immediately. She said, “ Barbara, tell Miss Dorothy 
I want her in the reception room.” 

55 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


After a few minutes a young lady swept into the room. She 
wore a loose white gown that clung to her graceful form in 
long folds, and made her more lovely than usual. She wore 
her raven hair coiled high on her head, and it was adorned by 
a red rose. To Butterfly she was perfectly exquisite, — as 
fair and fresh as a blooming rose kissed by the morning dew. 
Butterfly gave a low exclamation of surprise when she rec- 
ognised the fair young beauty to be her former schoolmate, and 
rival, Dorothy Gregg. 

Dorothy stared for an instant as if spellbound, then her sur- 
prise found speech. “You!” she said under her breath, her 
dark eyes snapping fire, and then she broke into a merry, mock- 
ing laugh, mixed with mirth and scorn, that rang through the 
old castle. 

Lady Isabel stared in wonder from one to the other. “ Dor- 
othy,” she said in surprise, “ what does all this mean? ” 

Dorothy crushed back her scorn, and a sweet smile played 
around her ruby lips. “ Dear Auntie,” she said, “ I shall tell 
you later. Lord Millbrook awaits me in the library. He is 
in a hurry; I cannot detain him,” and like a young queen de- 
scending from her throne in the presence of her enemies, she 
swept from the room, leaving poor Butterfly like a storm- 
beaten lily, whose beauty had been crushed by a rude blast. 

Lady Isabel’s haughty face softened as she watched the pale, 
trembling girl, and wondered at the change. “ This is all 
a mystery to me,” she said in amazement. 

Butterfly did not deign to reply, but walked away. Her 
head reeled, her soul was tempest-tossed, her young form that 
for months had suffered the pangs of sorrow and disappoint- 
ment was now bent under the cruel blow; and when the misty 
cloud rolled from her brain her thoughts went out to her old 
home, and an intense longing came over this fair young crea- 
ture, a yearning to sleep the long, long sleep by her mother’s 
side in the little village churchyard near her childhood’s home. 

56 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


Simon observed the change in the beautiful young girl as 
she passed down the hall to the great door, and he opened it 
to let her pass. He wished he could say a word of consolation 
to her. 

“ Poor girl ; she has been wounded by the red rose,” he 
thought. He always called Dorothy Gregg the red rose with 
the sharp thorns. 

Butterfly was glad to be away from the place, and once 
more in the open air. To her dying day she never could de- 
scribe how she got back to her little garret room, and with 
trembling lips she repeated the words composed by her in that 
dark hour : 

Oh, Lord, send me aid to comfort, 

One faint hope from Thee divine, 

And if death does not release me 
Let me live, and be sublime. 

Scarcely had she finished the plaintive words when she heard 
a loud knocking. She thought it came from Anna’s room, and 
then she heard her name called, but she longed to remain in 
her own room and shut herself forever from the world, for 
her every hope had now vanished, and the wolf of poverty 
was near at hand. 

“ But I must go to see Anna,” she murmured wearily. 

And walking hurriedly to the invalid’s room, thinking she 
might be in distress, she was surprised to find her in good 
spirits. 

“ Oh, I have been waiting for you,” declared Anna. “ Come 
here until you see.” 

Butterfly noticed that her thin sad face was nervously flushed, 
and that her great melancholy eyes looked like two bright stars 
on a dark night. Butterfly was startled herself when she 
glanced around the girl’s shabby little room that was now 
brightened by many luxuries. 

“ See wbat the handsome stranger has sent us,” said Anna. 

57 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


“ Those are for you,” pointing to the various bright-hued flow- 
ers. Butterfly walked over to them, inhaled their delightful 
perfume, and lifting up a card that lay concealed beneath their 
beautiful heads, read: 


WALTER LOVE JOY 
VICTORIA HOTEL 
LONDON 

Butterfly turned to Anna, whose mind was occupied with 
her many new gifts. She rejoiced for Anna’s sake, for a look 
of happiness had dawned on that sad, worn face. 

“ Anna,” said Butterfly, “ how can we express our gratitude 
to that kind, generous stranger.” 

“He is very good and kind,” said Anna, “but I think I 
owe my gratitude to you. See my doll; it looks like you too, 
with its golden curls and great violet eyes, but its cheeks have 
more color than yours, for yours are fading.” 

Butterfly smiled at the keen, observing child, and thought 
to herself, “ You were not born for earth.” 

“ Hark! ” said Anna, “ I hear the sound of carriage wheels,” 
and looking out through the tiny window from her invalid 
couch, she saw the handsome stranger alight from a hansom. 
“You go down,” said Anna excitedly; “here is the kind gen- 
tleman.” 

With flushed face. Butterfly hurried down the narrow 
stairs to the door, and with a nervous, excited hand she opened 
the door, and in stepped Walter Lovejoy, the handsome 
stranger, looking like a knight of old, ready to comply with 
her every wish. 

“ How is my little patient?” he asked smilingly, whilst his 
great magnetic eyes lingered on the girl. 

“She is very happy,” replied Butterfly; “almost in ecstasies 
over her new gifts.” 


58 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


As Walter Lovejoy climbed the tiny dark stairs, Butterfly 
wondered if he had ever climbed such a shabby little poke be- 
fore. As he entered the invalid’s room he was delighted to 
find her so overjoyed. 

“ Come and see my beautiful doll,” said Anna, and her great 
eyes kindled with gratitude. “ You are so extremely good, and 
kind,” she said in low, modest tones ; “ how, how can I thank 
you ? ” 

“ You have thanked me by your great happiness,” he said, 
caressing her gently with his white hand. 

Butterfly walked over to the table on which was a vase of 
beautiful flowers. She leaned over the flowers, inhaling their 
fascinating fragrance, and her eyes shone like two bright stars 
as she said, “ Let me also thank you for sending me these de- 
lightful fragrant flowers.” And then a tender glow dyed her 
young cheek. 

“You are fond of flowers, then?” Walter asked, with a 
smile. 

“ Fond is not the word ; I simply adore them.” 

“ I am glad to know it. Tell me your favorites?” he 
asked. ^ 

“ I prefer the sweet violets and the bewitching rose,” re- 
turned Butterfly. 

“ An excellent choice,” replied Walter, with a merry twinkle 
in his eye; “and I admire the fair lady who resembles those 
flowers.” 

Butterfly glanced from him to Anna, and a tender smile 
parted her lovely lips. 

Meanwhile Walter’s attention was attracted by Anna’s 
boundless joy; she was so enraptured by her new gifts that 
she was unconscious of those near her. Walter’s heart was 
touched with the deepest pity as he watched the pale, worn 
face flushed with joy. 


59 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


“ Did I ever dream,” he thought to himself, “ that one 
could be made so happy with a few gifts?” 

No; he could not dream so, for he had everything that 
wealth could buy him, yet he sought strange lands to drive 
away the blue devils of discontent. 

At length Anna sgid, “ Mr. Lovejoy, you have not noticed 
my golden-haired doll, my Butterfly.” 

“Your Butterfly?” Walter said in surprise. “Is that the 
name you gave it ? ” 

“Yes; don’t you think it looks like Butterfly, like Miss 
Fields?” 

“ Is that your name? ” Walter asked of Butterfly, somewEat 
surprised. 

“ Yes,” replied the girl. “ My mother used to call me by 
that name, because of my fondness for the dells and flowers.” 

“And you still cling to the name?” and his marvelous eyes 
lingered on the girl. 

“ I like the name because Mother chose it, but I was chris- 
tened Marion.” 

Walter took the doll from Anna. “ My dear little girl,” 
he said, “ I am afraid she is too heavy for you. Let us com- 
pare the two Butterflies. Why, you could take them for twin 
sisters.” 

As he broke into a deep mellow laugh Butterfly laughed 
shyly. Anna seemed to be very proud that her doll was so 
beautiful. Indeed, the doll did resemble Butterfly. Anna was 
right ; only the girl’s great violet eyes were much more beauti- 
ful. A little while before her cheeks had been wan, but now 
they were flushed with a crimson hue, and in her mind she re- 
peated the little verse: 

Where I am they think I am happy, 

For I smile, and play my part; 

Little do they, who are here beside me, 

Know the aching of my heart. 

6o 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


“ I must be going now,” Walter said, smilingly. “ I have 
paid my morning visit to the sick,” and he patted Anna con- 
descendingly on the head. “You must be well when I come 
again,” he said gently, and he placed in her hand a gold piece, — 
a guinea. 

Anna looked at it in wonder, for she had never before seen 
a “golden half penny,” as she called it. 

He smiled at the innocence of the girl, and he thought to 
himself, “ Sometimes one can do good through evil,” and like 
a knight taking his departure from the presence of high-born 
ladies, he prepared to go. 

His dark eyes lingered a moment on Butterfly, and they 
seemed to magnetize her. As he found his way out into the 
street he muttered to himself: “What a place! Why should 
such a beautiful creature have to live in such a place? The 
thistle was never meant to bloom beside the rose, and diamonds 
were never meant to sparkle on the coarse red hands of a 
washer-woman, and the works of Providence cannot be right 
when so fair a gem, through no fault of her own, has to reside 
in such a despicable hovel.” 

Butterfly and Anna watched the handsome stranger through 
the little window until the carriage disappeared. Anna was 
about to speak when Mrs. Baxton entered hurriedly as usual. 

“ I’m in a hurry,” she said, her voice at its highest pitch. 
“ Why,” she continued, her bent frame straightening with sur- 
prise as she beheld the numerous gifts. “ Where in the world 
did all these come from ? ” 

“ From a generous stranger,” replied Butterfly. 

“ Sec, my bright, golden penny,” broke in Anna. 

“ Well, of all things,” returned the woman, “ he certainly 
must be generous. I thought these things had rained from the 
heavens,” and glad tears of surprise and joy filled her eyes. 

She observed her daughter’s bright, nervous flush and great 
happiness, and she thought to herself, “ This is indeed a God- 

61 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


send.” Then she turned her eyes in another direction. 
“What lovely posies!” she said. 

“Mr. Lovejoy sent these to me,” said Butterfly; “just in- 
hale their perfume,” and the thought flashed into Mrs. Bax- 
ton’s brain: “ He is in love with her. No wonder.” 

Butterfly excused herself on the plea that she had a head- 
ache, and Mrs. Baxton hurried away to prepare for her a 
strong cup of tea. The girl was glad to get back to her room 
to think, though her heart was sick with aching. She rejoiced 
for those poor people’s sake, and she could pour out her soul’s 
gratitude to this noble gentleman for his kindness and gener- 
osity. A few minutes later Mrs. Baxton returned with a cup 
of fragrant tea and some buttered toast. “Take this,” she 
said ; “ it may relieve you. I know it always helps me.” 

“ Thank you,” said Butterfly, as she took the tray. “ Will 
you not come in ? ” 

“ No,” replied the woman, “ time never waits for me. Work 
is waitin’ for me down-stairs,” and a broad smile brightened 
her tired face. When Butterfly was alone she ate with a 
relish. Her cheeks flushed a shade deeper as she murmured to 
herself, “ This is the first morsel I have eaten to-day.” 

Looking out sadly through the little window, she saw that 
the sun was just sinking behind the great church steeple like 
a red ball of fire. She could hear the sound of children’s 
merry voices; they had just appeared in sight, as they had to 
keep indoors during midday, on account of the awful heat. 
“ How happy they seem,” she mused, “ though they are poor 
and neglected. 

One ruddy-cheeked, barefooted lad slapped his comrade for 
striking his sister, and then ran; and they all disappeared in 
pursuit. Butterfly then looked around her room and her eyes 
lingered on a rare picture, the work of her own hands, — the 
picture of the beautiful convent of St. Bernard’s. There were 
several other paintings that looked out of place in the shabby 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


little room. She rested her chin on her slender white hand 
and thought of her great ambitions, of how she had built 
castles in the air, of how she had hoped that at some future 
day her fame and good work would extend over the land, of 
how her lofty ambitions had now fallen to the dust, and of 
how stern reality stared her in the face. Then her thoughts 
traversed to the mountain that one had to climb in order to 
attain fame; and she compared it to the great high mountain 
that had two paths. One path was more frequented than the 
other; on one side y^u were guarded by armed guards, and 
even then the weary traveller often became exhausted ; the 
other side was the lonesome path ; there was no guide on this 
side, and looking up through this high rugged path, she saw 
shrubs and thorns, and through the thicket she saw blazing- 
eyed demons that seldom or ever let their innocent victim 
pass; she saw precipices, and she came to a chasm, and in that 
chasm she saw lonely graves of young and fragile women, and 
many an honest, manly man. “ And if something does not 
turn up for me, I too must lie in the lonely grave of the work- 
ing soldier who has failed to win the victory.” 

About that same hour Walter Lovejoy left orders with the 
owner of the “ Palace Beautiful,” one of the most fashionable 
florists in London, to send to Dudlow Street, to the laundress’ 
home, every morning the choicest roses and violets. 

“ If money can make them more beautiful, then do so,” and 
a merry twinkle shone in his dark eyes as he said to his com- 
panion, “ All Butterflies like flowers, but this one is of a rare 
species.” 

“ Is she young? ” asked his college chum. 

“Yes; she is in her teens,” replied Walter. 

“ Oh, Arnin,” said his companion, “ I know your weakness 
for the young and beautiful.” 

This conversation between the two young men revealed the 
difference between them. Walter only loved the young and 

63 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


beautiful, while his companion had a courteous reverence for 
all womankind. 

“ Arnin, if you will allow me to give you some friendly ad- 
vice,” he said, “ marry the girl who was your promised wife. 
She is the noblest young woman in all England, and let this 
rare species of Butterfly fly her way.” 

“ You are always quoting virtues to me,” and Amin’s hand- 
some face ruffled with anger. 

Duty points one way and inclination the other; the battle 
between right and wrong in his breast was of short duration. 
He threw prudence to the winds, and thought, “ Let the result 
be what it may, I shall keep up the acquaintance with the rare 
little beauty.” 

“ No hard feelings, Arnin,” said his companion. “ I was 
only giving you some brotherly advice, as I am older than 
you.” 

“Thanks, thanks; but I am old enough to know my own 
business,” he replied sharply. 

No more was said, and each bid the other adieu and went his 
way. 

Butterfly exhausted her brains thinking what next course 
to pursue, but she could arrive at no conclusion. She had be- 
come more fragile than usual. She had just paid her morning 
visit to Anna, as she had been in the habit of doing. She 
called it her daily visit to the sick room. She had found Anna 
not quite so well as she had been. She was hugging her doll, — 
her Butterfly, — and seemed to lavish more love on it day by 
day. Butterfly had been talking to Anna only a little while 
when Mrs. Baxton entered excitedly, carrying in her hands 
the sweetest flowers that ever bloomed, — flowers that filled the 
air with their intoxicating perfume. 

“ Here,” she said excitedly, as she handed them to Butterfly. 

Butterfly took them, but no smile came from her lips; for a 
moment her heart was filled with sorrow. 

64 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


“Why do you look at them so?” asked Mrs. Baxton. 
“ Are you not pleased with them ? ” 

“ Pleased with them ! ” said Butterfly. “ Their beauty fills 
my soul. Did you ever see such roses and violets, Anna? . . . 
And look at the dear little bluebells that encircle them,” said 
Butterfly, turning to the little girl, who had been observing 
her keenly all the while. “If those bells could ring, I wonder 
what they would say.” 

Anna hesitated a moment, and then said, “ They would 
probably say not to let the handsome stranger steal your heart 
away! ” 

Butterfly looked at her in amazement. 

“ Don’t mind her,” broke in her mother. “ She is always 
dreaming.” 

“ But, Mother,” said Anna, “ have you ever read the words 
of Shakespeare ? ” 

“Have you ever read the words of the washboard?” said 
her mother earnestly, and Butterfly, in spite of her troubles, 
burst into a fit of laughter. 

“ I should think,” said Butterfly, “ the washboard would say 
not to work too hard.” 

“And then what would the clothes say?” said Mrs. Bax- 
ton. 

“ Oh, Mother, don’t talk so,” broke in Anna. 

“ Let us hear the words of Shakespeare to which you refer,” 
said Butterfly; “I have probably never heard them.” 

And Anna repeated: 

“ Oh, that deceit should steal such gentle shapes, 

And with a virtuous vision hide deep vice.” 

“ I hear a voice callin’ me down-stairs,” said Mrs. Baxton 
as she left the room. 

“Mother thinks I am always dreaming,” said Anna; “and 
she calls me a bookworm.” 

65 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


Butterfly wondered how such a coarse mother could possess 
a daughter with such a beautiful mind and soul. Butter- 
fly took a book that had been lying on the table near Anna’s 
couch. 

“Did Mr. Lovejoy give you this? ” she asked of Anna. 

“ Yes,” replied the girl. “ If you like reading, come to my 
library.” 

She read a page or two, and then dropped the book. Lean- 
ing her head back against the chair that she had been sitting 
on, she stared listlessly at the shabby wall-paper, but she did 
not see its design, for the panorama of her own life’s story 
was passing before her, and it was sad indeed, — her meeting 
with Sir John Russel, his having lured her to false hopes through 
a virtuous vision, her adventure with the proud young heiress, 
Dorothy Gregg, the death of her dear mother, her struggle for 
existence, and now the wolf of hunger staring her in the face. 
“ Was there ever a fate as dark as mine? ” she moaned softly 
to herself. Had it not been for the strong perfume of the 
flowers, she would have swooned then and there. 

“ Was there ever a fate as dark as yours? ” repeated Anna, 
who had been watching the girl keenly. 

Butterfly was startled and tried to arouse herself from her 
unpleasant thoughts. “ Did you speak to me? ” she asked of 
the little girl. 

“What is that you just said?” asked Anna. 

“What did I say?” replied Butterfly. “I said was there 
ever a fate as dark as mine? Oh, I have been meditating on 
unpleasant thoughts,” and Butterfly tried to avoid the ques- 
tion. 

“ May I ask you where your relatives are? ” said Anna. 

“ I have no relatives,” returned the girl sadly. 

“ Surely,” said Anna, “ you must have some relatives, or at 
least some friends.” 

“Yes; I have a friend,” said Butterfly, as she thought of 

66 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


Molly, her mother’s faithful servant, “ but she cannot help 
me,” — and suddenly a thought came to her, as if whispered by 
an angel, “ Jasmine Sutherland. Why did I not think of her 
before?” — “and a young lady whom I met in school offered 
ever to be my true friend, but I refused assistance from her, 
relying on my own self-confidence. She may not be at home 
now, as she was to go abroad to study.” 

“ Does she live in England? ” asked Anna. 

“No,” replied Butterfly; “she lives in Laurel Hill House 
in the Highlands of Scotland. Her mother sometimes travels 
for her health, and then she sends her daughter to boarding- 
school.” 

“ How I should like to be the daughter of such a wealthy 
mother,” said Anna, with a wistful look, “ to go abroad and 
see different countries, to be educated in a boarding-school, and 
to live in a beautiful home, such as you speak of.” 

“ People who live in beautiful homes are not always the 
best nor happiest,” said Butterfly as she thought of Dorothy 
Gregg. 

“ No,” said Anna. “ I suppose it is the case with some; they 
do not know enough to appreciate what they have. “ Why,” 
she said, her great melancholy eyes looking sadder than ever, 
“ I never have had a doll before in my life. I mean a hand- 
some big doll, dressed in silk and lace, and how I longed for 
one. Don’t I appreciate her! I have had lots of books sent 
me, — old books, you know; not new books, like those Mr. 
Love joy sends me, — and as to flowers, why I scarcely knew 
the violet from the rose.” 

“ You scarcely knew the violet from the rose,” said But- 
terfly in astonishment. “Can it be possible?” 

“ Oh,” said Anna, “ you forget that I am a poor child living 
in poverty row, reading and dreaming day after day in my 
narrow cell. Mother has not even time to talk to me. — So 
that is how I wear my young life away.” 

67 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


“ But you have the knowledge of a girl twice your age,” said 
Butterfly. 

“ Yes,” replied Anna sadly; “ I develop my brains, as Mother 
says, by dreaming, while other children develop their muscles 
by playing.” 

Butterfly gazed at the girl’s thin, sad face in pity, although 
she herself was in a disturbed state of mind and the clouds of 
gloom hung heavily over her. She was glad she had come into 
the house of this strange, neglected child, whose life was sad- 
der than her own, and could help and cheer her. For, as 
Anna said, she had never known any sunshine until the pretty 
lady came. 

An August afternoon was passing, taking with it the terrible 
midday heat. As an easy carriage rolled up to the door of 
the laundress, the coachman alighted, and taking from the seat 
beside him a well-laden box, he handed it to Mrs. Baxton, 
who had just rushed breathlessly to the door. 

“ The gentleman sent you this,” said the coachman, eyeing 
her keenly. 

Then Walter alighted, his handsome face radiant with smiles 
as he said: “Good afternoon, Mrs. Baxton. I heard your 
daughter express a . wish to see the parks and some of the 
scenery round London. I think she said she had never been 
out in the park since she was a child.” 

“ No, indeed, she has not been out much, poor thing,” said 
her mother, with a sigh. 

“ I shall be delighted to show her and her young friend, Miss 
Fields, around. The air is delightful this afternoon, and it 
will do them goed. That is, with your permission,” said Wal- 
ter, with much courtesy. 

“ Oh, yes, sir,” said Mrs. Baxton, “ if she is able to go.” 

The woman mounted the dark stairs excitedly. She stepped 
on every other step until she reached the top, and then she en- 

68 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


tered the little room where the two girls anxiously awaited the 
coming of Mr. Lovejoy. 

“ The gentleman wants you both to go out drivin’,” said 
Mrs. Baxton. 

“ He does,” said Anna, trying to suppress a cry of joy that 
arose 'to her lips. “But, Mother, my clothes are so shabby. 
What shall I do?” 

“ I can help you,” broke in Butterfly. “ I still cling to one 
of my juvenile dresses.” 

As she went to her little trunk and lifted from its contents 
a blue silk dress her eyes lingered on it for a moment and then 
grew misty as she thought of those happy days gone by. 

The girls prepared to dress, and Mrs. Baxton hurried down- 
stairs to tell the gentleman that they would soon be ready. 
She had scarcely descended the third step when she heard a 
voice cry out, “ Mother, Mother, ask him can I bring my 
doll?” 

“ They will be ready soon,” said Mrs. Baxton, “ and my 
daughter wants to know can she bring her doll.” 

“ Certainly,” said Walter, with a smile. “ If her Butterfly 
adds to her pleasure, she is welcome to a drive.” 

Walter Lovejoy went back and took his seat in the car- 
riage. It rolled slowly up and down the roughly paved street, 
with a curious crowd of poorly clad children in pursuit. After 
he had waited some time Butterfly and Anna appeared, Anna 
leaning heavily on the arm of her mother. 

Walter sprang to her assistance, and helped her to the front 
seat beside the coachman, saying, “ Here you will have the 
benefit of the best view and of fresh' air.” 

He handed her doll to her; she clung to it fondly, and placed 
it in the centre between herself and the coachman. He and 
Butterfly took the rear seat. Anna did not notice in her great 
joy that the children who had refused to play with her because 

69 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


she was strange and sickly were now watching her with en- 
vious eyes, and as the carriage rolled away they made a striking 
picture. Butterfly wore a simple lavender dress, a black hat, 
and pinned on the front of her dress were her favorite flowers, 
violets. Her face looked pale and sad, yet intensely beautiful, 
even though the shadows of trials and misfortune had left their 
traces. 

As Walter took his seat beside the fair young girl he looked 
searchingly into her face and said, “ Where are the roses you 
wore when last I saw you ? ” 

“I do not remember wearing roses,” she said sweetly; “I 
think you are mistaken.” 

“No, I am not mistaken,” he declared; “roses bloomed on 
your cheeks when I saw you last, and now they have faded, 
and the shadows of some trouble have taken their place. Tell 
me the cause of it,” he said pleadingly. 

She longed to tell him that cruel fate had robbed her of 
them, but instead she forced a smile and said, “ You see I wear 
violets in lieu.” 

Walter laughed lightly. “ I am going to be very bold,” 
he said, gently and tenderly. “ I cannot bear to see you look 
so pale and wan. You are in trouble about something. You 
are so young, so frail, to bear sorrow all alone. Lean upon 
me for support, and I will gladly bear your burden.” 

Butterfly’s wonderful violet eyes went up to meet his. “You 
are very good and kind, Mr. Lovejoy, but I cannot tell you 
my trouble. At least not now; later on I may.” 

She thought, “ I will seek Jasmine’s aid first.” 

As the high-spirited, prancing horses dashed with great 
rapidity over the fashionable boulevards, through the well-kept 
parks, where oriental flowers bloom in great profusion, it 
seemed as if everything in nature contributed its share toward 
the enchanting beauty of this glorious afternoon. The air 
was fresh and balmy; it brought back a faint tinge of color 

70 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


to the pale cheeks of those two ill-fated girls. It seemed as 
if the sky above was robed for the occasion in its fairest mantle 
of blue, and the various plumaged songsters added to the scene 
and sang their sweetest songs. Anna watched in silent won- 
der the glories of the scene. The tide of fashion whirled by, 
with their well-equipped horses, their gorgeous gowns, and 
sparkling jewels, as they basked in their own vain glories. 

She murmured to herself, “ This is indeed a dream of Para- 
dise.” Then came a vision of herself, in her lonely, wretched, 
squalid room, and of her poor over-toiled mother, who had 
not even time to talk to her, and of her passing her young 
life away in this way. Her only companions were the books 
that the cold hand of charity had given her, her dreams and 
God’s free light, the sunshine ; and she wondered why it should 
be that we are all the children of Eve, yet one path is paved 
with gold, while the other is only a mockery. She was aroused 
from her thoughts by an old gentleman, with long beard, wear- 
ing glasses. 

“What a pretty little girl!” he exclaimed, standing still 
and addressing her doll. 

“ He thinks you are a real live girl,” said Anna, smiling 
down upon her Butterfly as a proud mother would smile upon 
her child. 

Walter Lovejoy laughed outright. This strange girl 
amused him. Walter and Butterfly watched her keenly all 
the while. Butterfly was grave ; she could read Anna’s 
thoughts. She knew the girl’s wild, passionate love for Na- 
ture, — it was all so new, so strange, that it simply overwhelmed 
her. As Butterfly told Walter, it reminded her of the story of 
a blind girl, who after years of blindness had regained her 
sight. “ Everything was so new, so strange, and so wonderful, 
that she became so overjoyed she nearly died from the effects,” 
she said. 

Faster and faster dashed the high-spirited animals over the 

71 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


country roads, past many a famous old castle and its vast ex- 
tent of land, which sent forth a delicious odor of moorland 
air, mingled with honeysuckle. Walter said it was amusing to 
watch Anna. At this time the frisky deer were bounding to 
and fro, the sheep were bleating amidst the tinkle of the cow- 
bells; 4:here was the soaring of the lark, and the shrill cry of 
the curlew, and of the gullemont, and the babbling brooks 
flowed merrily on to join the great rivers. It was all so won- 
derful to Anna that words failed her. Walter kept point- 
ing out to them different places of interest, and in this way the 
afternoon glided into evening all too soon, and the shadows of 
night were descending upon the hill-tops. “ We had better 
return home,” said Butterfly, “ or night will overtake us.” 

Walter gave orders to the coachman to turn back, and the 
high-spirited horses returned, but not with the same rapidity 
that they had come. And Butterfly hummed the following 
words : 

Back from scenes of stately castles, 

Back from nature’s sweet perfume, 

Back to a poor and lowly hovel. 

And a wretched garret room. 

When they arrived at the laundress’ little hovel to Anna 
her home had never looked so shamefully mean before. The 
pictures of great castles were in her mind, and the grand dames 
with their sparkling diamonds, reposing with an air of indo- 
lence in their easy carriages. It all came in a picture before 
her. Just then her mother came to the door. She was fairly 
drenched with soap-suds, and her poor red hands were bleeding 
from the constant washing. 

“ Thank you, sir, thank you,” she said, making a reverence 
to the kind gentleman, as she went forward to help her daugh- 
ter from the carriage. 

She just reached out her brawny red arms in time to save 
72 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


the inanimate form of the girl from coming in contact with 
the street. In an instant Walter came to her assistance. He 
wanted to get a doctor, but Mrs. Baxton would not hear of 
it, saying that her daughter would be well in a little while. 
The coachman helped Mrs. Baxton to carry the apparently 
lifeless form to her cot, and with Butterfly’s gentle assistance 
Anna soon revived. 

Walter whispered words of warning to Butterfly. Such an 
atmosphere, such surroundings, were simply killing her, and 
again he chided her about letting her roses fade. And with 
much regret for poor Anna, and expressing a wish to see her 
again soon, the handsome Walter took his departure in his 
usual gracious manner. 

Butterfly remained with Anna for some time, but she wished 
to be alone. She felt anxious about the girl. In the mean- 
time Mrs. Baxton had opened the well-laden box of delicacies, 
and with good-natured hospitality she invited Butterfly to dine. 

Let us celebrate the event,” said Mrs. Baxton, glancing 
at her daughter. 

“ It is certainly the greatest event of my life,” said Anna, 
with an attempt at merry-making. 

They celebrated the occasion, and deep down in Butterfly’s 
heart she felt grateful to the generous Mr. Lovejoy. Had 
it not been for him, she would have had to retire with a slimmer 
meal. Butterfly’s keen eyes observed the sad look on Anna’s 
face. 

“ The ride with the purty gentleman has not made you any 
more frisky, Anne,” broke in her mother. 

“Oh, I enjoyed it. Mother; it was all so grand, but do 
not think for a moment that to gaze on another’s splendor 
makes one frisky,” she said in low and plaintive tones. 

“ You’d better go to bed and rest,” said her mother. “ You 
look tired out.” 


73 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


“ Yes,” replied Butterfly, “ she is quite exhausted after that 
wonderful drive. See, her eyes are closing now. So, good 
night and pleasant dreams.” 

Butterfly left the room slowly, stopping at the door to look 
back on that frail little creature whose life was slowly wasting 
away. Anna’s great melancholy eyes looked wistfully after 
her. They seemed to say, ” I wish you could always remain 
with me.” 

Time wore on ; it hung heavily over those two young girls, 
each waiting and wondering what was in store for them, some- 
thing that time alone could tell. Butterfly’s health was fail- 
ing fast. The beautiful months of Summer had fled, and the 
breath of Autumn swept over the land, disrobing her fair 
sister of her beautiful garb, and dressing her in a dreary brown 
mantle, or, as our poet Bryant said: 

“The melancholy days have come, the saddest of the year. 

Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sear. 
Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the auburn leaves lie dead, 

They rustle to the eddying winds, and to the rabbits’ tread. 

The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrub the jay, 

And from the wood tops call the crow, through all the gloomy day.” 

Gloom hung heavily over those tw^o poor girls, and it seemed 
as if a darker day was dawning for them. For Butterfly’s 
health was failing fast. She had not been able to leave the 
house for some days, and as she and Anna sat together in their 
little garret room the only thing that was bright therein were 
the beautiful flowers that Walter had sent them and a few’ of 
Butterfly’s paintings. 

She looked sadly at her work and said, “ There is not a flaw 
in that Madonna that my tw’o eyes can see, yet, yet — ” 

Anna was sitting by the little window with a shawd around 
her shoulders, and although her mother was a laundress it 
was far from being clean. The rays of a pale moon were 

74 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


softly stealing down on Anna’s sad, wan face, giving it a death- 
like, ghastly hue. 

Butterfly shuddered as she glanced from her to the dim can- 
dle. “ It reminds me of death,” she mused, — “ the corpse, 
the candle, and the flowers. ... A penny for your thoughts, 
Anna,” said Butterfly, trying to be cheerful. 

“ Oh,” said Anna, “ I was just wondering what was in the 
future for me.” 

“ I suppose,” said Butterfly, “ you will be lonesome when I 
leave you.” 

“ Miss Sutherland has not written to you yet,” said Anna. 

“ No,” said Butterfly. “ I am surprised at Jasmine’s delay; 
something is wrong, I know. Jasmine has not forgotten me; 
she was my true friend in school, and she promised ever to be 
faithful to me. I know I shall hear from her.” 

“ I may go before you,” said Anna, and her face kindled 
with a new joy that Butterfly had never seen there before. 

“Go where?” she asked, looking at her in wonder. 

“To my sisters,” Anna replied smilingly. 

“Your sisters? Where?” said Butterfly. 

“ Over the river with the mariner Death,” said Anna, still 
smiling. “ It is too bad that his passengers never return. 
And if perchance you ever come this way again, on my little 
neglected mound plant some of the flowers that you and I love 
so well. As you know. Mother has little time, and who knows 
but I may smile down upon you from the golden gates of 
Heaven, and whisper words of comfort, though you cannot 
hear me? ” 

Butterfly tried to suppress the sob that arose to her lips, but 
it did not escape Anna’s keen eyes. 

“Why do you weep?” she asked of Butterfly. 

“ Oh, death is so sad, so mysterious. I cannot bear to see 
you go,” she replied, with a sigh. 

“ I cannot understand why people think so,” replied Anna, 

75 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


her great melancholy eyes looking sadly at Butterfly. “It is 
only through death that we gain the greatest victory. Tongue 
nor pen can describe the glories and the grandeur of the world 
beyond death.” 

As she finished the words a look of peaceful happiness came 
into that wan face and the soft moonbeams played full upon 
it. The candle had burned to its socket, and the room was in 
semi-darkness ; it seemed as if every star in the Heavens beamed 
an arrow of light. 

As Anna gave a lingering look at the full moon she said 
in thoughtful, plaintive tones: “Before a new moon takes 
its place I will have joined my sisters in that beautiful land. 
Now we had better retire to rest, as it is getting late.” 

Butterfly left the room slowly, with the words of that strange 
girl ringing in her ears, and when Butterfly looked upon that 
little face again Anna’s soul had winged its flight to that beau- 
tiful land, and the frail young form that had known nothing 
but sickness and poverty will suffer no more. 

Darker still hung the shadows of gloom over poor Butterfly. 
The loss of her young friend and only companion was a great 
blow to her. She had loved this poor neglected girl very much, 
and within the walls of the laundress’ shabby little home she 
could find no more happiness, and she implored her angel 
mother beyond the skies to take her home too. 

But the dark cloud that had cast so much gloom over her 
young life was passing away, and a brighter one was soon to 
take its place. For her ever faithful friend Jasmine Suther- 
land was fast flitting amidst the soft velvets of an easy train 
over the heathery hills of Scotland to her aid. Meanwhile 
Mrs. Baxton in her excitement had forgotten to give Butterfly 
a note from Walter; the poor over-worked mother of the dead 
girl was stupid from grief and toil. 

She turned to Butterfly and said, her tears falling fast, 
“ Soon my five little ones will be sleepin’ side by side.*’ She 

76 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


wrung her poor red hands as she cried aloud : “ Desolate, all 

is desolate! Would to God that I too were asleep with my 
little ones.” 

Butterfly laid a white hand gently on her shoulder as she 
said: “Do not grieve, my dear woman. Your daughter is 
at rest; pain and poverty cannot reach her now. What would 
become of her if you had to go? Is it not much better to give 
her to her Maker than to leave her to the mercy of the 
stranger? ” 

Mrs. Baxton partly smiled through her tears as she wiped 
them away and said: “Yes, Miss, she is safe in his keepin’. 
I will grieve no more. I would not want her to travel the 
weary road that I have travelled.” 

Mrs. Baxton arose and left the room to answer a summons, 
a grief-stricken mother though she wore a calm expression. 

She soon returned with a note, saying, “ I forgot to give 
you this. It came this mornin’. You must excuse me; I 
scarcely know what Em doin’,” and the woman left the room 
as abruptly as she had entered. 

Butterfly received the note very gladly. She could never 
forget Walter’s kindness to the dead girl, as he had brightened 
her last days. 

“ He will be so surprised when he comes to find her dead,” 
she mused. 

It was a charming, pleading little note, asking if he could 
call the following evening at 8 :30 p . m . 

The following afternoon Butterfly was sitting in her garret 
room, looking down on the street through a small window at 
the groups of poorly clad children who surrounded the laun- 
dress’ little home. They were whispering to one another some- 
thing about the dead girl. Butterfly could not hear; she tried 
to catch the words, but they were quite subdued. “ They seem 
to regret something,” she mused. Probably her mind was too 
upset, her thoughts too far away for her to understand. She 

77 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


yearned for something, — perhaps to clasp the hand and hear 
the kind words of an old friend once more. Something like 
a thrill of joy filled her lonely heart, as she thought, “ Mr. 
Lovejoy is coming.” 

For, in spite of Anna’s warning quotation from Shakespeare, 
her heart was slipping out to this handsome stranger. A bat- 
tle was being waged in her breast, — should she throw herself 
on his mercy, or should she wait a little longer the coming of 
Jasmine? Her health was failing her; she was despondent and 
nearly heart-broken. 

“ I will stretch my helpless hands to him for aid,” she said, 
for she had no other friend than the dark-eyed gentleman with 
the deep, musical voice. And this is what the amiable Walter 
Lovejoy was gladly expecting. 

But her angel mother’s prayers had not been in vain, for 
just as the shadows of dusk were spreading over the great city 
of London, Butterfly heard a carriage roll rapidly up the 
street, and it drew up before the laundress’ door. A lady 
alighted, — petite in form, and her movements were graceful, 
quick, and nervous. She was robed in deepest mourning, and 
a heavy veil concealed her face. In less than a minute a friend 
of Mrs. Baxton’s rushed hurriedly up the stairs. “ If you 
please. Miss Fields,” she said, “ a lady wishes to see you.” 
And in another instant Butterfly stood face to face with her 
former friend and schoolmate, — Jasmine Sutherland. 

The two girls gazed at each other speechless; then Butter- 
fly’s surprise found words! She threw her arms around Jas- 
mine’s neck and said, with a sob, “Oh, Jasmine!” 

Tears of joy partly relieved her of the terrible strain she 
had been undergoing, and for several minutes the two girls 
wept together, for each heart knows its own sorrow. Then 
Butterfly wiped her tears and led the way to her little room. 
Jasmine shuddered as she passed the silent chamber of death, 
and although gloom reigned in the laundress’ little home, But- 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


terfly could not suppress the joy that filled her soul for that 
moment. She said to herself, “ I ought not to be so happy in 
the presence of death,” but she was unable to suppress her joy. 

As Butterfly entered her cheerless little room she told Jas- 
mine to be seated, saying: “You must excuse this place. . . . 
May I ask what is the meaning of this sombre garb? ... I 
hope — I hope your dear mother and Violet are well. Dear, 
sweet Violet, how I long to see her again.” 

But the answer that came was a broken sob. When Jasmine 
could command her voice sufficiently to speak she said : “ She 

is numbered with the innocent dead. She was deceived by a 
cunning villain. She was the light and joy of the home, and 
how much you do remind me of her. We called her Violet 
because she was born when the fields were bedecked with those 
fair flowerets, and on her eighteenth birthday we laid her to 
rest, and those ever remindful flowers still bloom on.” 

Had Butterfly not been of heroic blood, she would have 
fainted at Jasmine’s feet. 

This painful, pitiful story had touched her more than any- 
thing she had ever heard before, and her own weary past had 
left her very weak and delicate. 

She drew the trembling Jasmine gently to her little couch, 
while she sat at her feet, saying sadly, “ Tell me all about that 
beautiful flower,” for she saw that Jasmine was on the verge 
of collapse. 

“ Oh,” said Jasmine, “ her history is a sad and pitiful one,” 
and with trembling hands she dried her tears. “ Violet and 
I went to France to study. Violet studied painting and I 
studied music. Mother, as you know, was not strong enough 
to accompany us. She always placed great confidence in me. 
As mother bid us adieu she called me aside, and told me that 
I must be mother and sister both now. . . . Violet, poor child, 
her heart was overflowing with supreme happiness; she thought 
she could bring the world to her feet by the mere stretching 

79 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


out of her hands. , For one year she knew nothing but hap- 
piness. She charmed everyone; the girls envied her; men were 
fascinated by her delicate beauty. She progressed wonder- 
fully with her beautiful art.” And here Jasmine’s face grew 
as white as marble as she said, “ Then came the path of sorrow. 
She met and fell desperately in love with a handsome villain 
who had a pair of magnetic, dark eyes and a deep musical 
voice. Talking to her and warning her as I did seemed only 
to increase her love for him. He seemed to mesmerize her. 
Violet was very wilful, but her heart was as pure as the flower 
she was named for. She used to tell me laughingly that when 
I would know Arnin I would love him too.” 

“ What was his name? ” gasped Butterfly, astonished. 

“ Arnin Kembwell,” Jasmine replied. “ He told us he was 
of Spanish and English extraction, but that he was a native of 
Spain. But I never believed him.” 

“ Go on,” said Butterfly, with bowed head. 

“ Violet used to tell me laughingly, her whole face radi- 
ant with love and trusting innocence, that underneath every 
one of Amin’s dark raven curls lay little Cupids, but I told 
her,” and Jasmine’s voice grew furious with anger, “ that un- 
derneath every one of his raven curls lay little devils. Oh! I 
wish I could forget him and the memories of that awful past. 
They went through a form of marriage. He led her to be- 
lieve she was his wife. He also begged her to keep it a secret 
until he could win the consent of his proud mother. Only 
two persons in France beside himself had any knowledge of 
the affair. He compelled her to live under a cloud for over 
three months; but even then she was happy. He gradually 
grew tired of her and disappeared. No tidings could be found 
of him any more than if he had dropped into the raging waters 
of an angry sea. For a time she watched, wept, and prayed 
for his return, but to no avail. Then she knew it was hope- 

80 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


less, and weary of life and heartbroken she returned to her 
native land, where she died shortly afterwards. We then laid 
her away in the family resting-place, beneath her namesakes, 
the violets. And oh, to think that he is free, — free to seek 
another victim.” The girl’s voice became furious and incon- 
solable. She paced the floor of the tiny room, her hazel eyes 
flashing fires of vengeance, her bosom heaving like the swelling 
waves of the sea. She clenched her small white hands, say- 
ing: “ I shall never die until I revenge the wrong of my in- 
nocent sister.” 

Butterfly arose and walked over to the girl, who was now 
frantic with grief and indignation. She placed her arm af- 
fectionately around Jasmine’s slender waist, saying: “This is 
indeed pitiful, — dreadful, — but a thousand times would I pre- 
fer to be the innocent victim than the deliberate villain who 
used virtue as a cloak and marriage as a decoy. That pure 
innocent face that he so cruelly wronged is ever before him, and 
his conscience burns his very soul.” 

“ Conscience, ” said Jasmine, trembling with indignation, 
“ such a man as that possesses no conscience.” 

“You may think so,” said Butterfly gently; “and in your 
case I cannot blame you, but a conscience he possesses and the 
early training of his beloved mother ever passes before his 
mind. And many a good and admirable mother has reared 
such a son, and the words and warnings of such a mother ever 
reproaches him for wrong-doing, and very often in order to 
drown that troubled conscience he has sought the wine cup as 
a daily companion. Yes, and sometimes he even plans his own 
end.” Butterfly could scarcely utter the last few words; a 
lump arose in her throat. “ It is all so pitiful,” she moaned, 
< — “ that poor Violet should meet with such a fate.” 

Jasmine’s keen eyes took in the situation in a glance. She 
saw that Butterfly was too overburdened with her own sor- 

8i 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


rows just then to listen to her sad and pitful story, for her 
fair young face was stamped with woe at the sight of But- 
terfly’s sad face. . 

Jasmine hid her anger and said, “ We will not talk about 
this painful story just now. I can see the hand of destiny 
has not dealt very gently with you,” — glancing around the 
squalid room. 

“Yes,” said Butterfly; “who knows where the cruel hand 
of destiny would have whirled me if it were not for you?” 
She tried to hide her tears and aching heart. 

For a moment there was silence, then Jasmine said, her face 
waxing white and calm: “I have come to carry you off to 
my dear old Scottish home. And you must take the vacant 
chair of my dear sweet sister. Mother and I have longed for 
this.” 

Butterfly’s pale, sad face brightened with unspeakable grati- 
tude, and after a moment’s silence she said in low plaintive 
tones, “ Heaven will ever reward you for your noble kindness 
is all that I can say,” and she thought of the difference be- 
tween Jasmine and the proud young heiress Dorothy Gregg. 

‘‘Oh!” said Jasmine excitedly, “have you heard the news 
of Dorothy? I mean Dorothy Gregg, your rival and school- 
mate in the convent of St. Bernard’s?” • 

“ No,” said Butterfly, “ I have not. I never dreamed that 
sorrow could reach rich beautiful Dorothy.” 

“ Well,” said Jasmine, “ Lord Millbrook, of Millbrook 
Manor, her affianced husband, gave a hunt. Dorothy of 
course was first on the list, and of course first she must remain. 
Never did she look more beautiful than on that morning, raid- 
ing beside her promised husband on her prancing spirited bay. 
Soon they were in pursuit. Like mad fled the hungry yelping 
hounds. Close beside their terrified prey, first and close beside 
the hounds, like a bird flying in the air, was Dorothy Gregg, 

8a 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


leaving her comrades far behind. She came to a high stone 
wall; her spirited bay refused, but Dorothy used the spur, — 
you know Dorothy never spared the spur, — and in sight of her 
astonished comrades who were far behind Dorothy and her 
unwilling bay cleared the stone wall. On the other side was 
a steep descent. A cry of warning came from Lord Mill- 
brook’s lips, but too late. The beautiful horse fell to rise no 
more, its neck was broken in two places. Alas for fair, proud 
Dorothy! She received internal injuries and a broken spine. 
The first word she spoke when she gained consciousness was, 
‘Oh, he will not marry me now!’ Indeed too true; Lord 
Millbrook would not marry her. He heartlessly told her 
aunt. Lady Isabel Heyburn, that Dorothy was unfit to be his 
wife now, for he wanted a wife to do honor to his grand old 
name. Dorothy was very wealthy. She w^as sole heiress to 
her mother’s estate, and if she should die without issue, her 
wealth was to be divided among her relations. Lord Mill- 
brook knew this. You know. Butterfly,” said Jasmine, “ Dor- 
othy always had to be first.” 

“Yes,” gasped Butterfly; “but is there no hope for her re- 
covery? ” 

“ No; the doctors say she is hopelessly injured.” 

“Poor, imprudent Dorothy,” said Butterfly; “by her pride 
and spur she lived, and by it she shall die.” 

“ Dorothy was indeed a true daughter of the gods,” said 
Jasmine, “ but she was as heartless as she was proud. And 
in her conscious moments she tears her beautiful raven locks 
that she loved to have adorned, and she cries in agony for 
death to release her.” 

“ So that is the end,” said Butterfly sadly, “ so that is the 
end of beautiful Dorothy,” and she remembered the wailing 
cry that came from the tree tops in Turin Castle. 

“ Do not tarry any longer in this unhealthy atmosphere,” 

83 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


said Jasmine, glancing once more at the squalid room. “ I 
cannot bear to see you here. Prepare right now, and we will 
get away.” 

“ I cannot go now,” said Butterfly, with a sigh. “ My lit- 
tle friend is to be buried to-morrow. The last request she 
made was that I should plant upon her grave with my own 
hands the flowers that she and I loved so well. Poor child, 
she longed for the angels to take her. She was my only friend, 
and often helped to cheer me, in this lonely place. And Mr. 
Lovejoy is coming this evening. He will be amazed and as- 
tonished; he has not heard of her death, and he was extremely 
good and generous to her, and very kind to me. So I must 
remain to thank him for his noble kindness.” 

“ And I, as your sister, will also thank him,” said Jasmine, 
grasping her hand gently and firmly. 

The soft rays of the silvery moon penetrated into the shabby 
little room and played full on their pale faces. In this hour 
of joy and sorrow the evening before the same soft beams had 
played around poor Anna’s face, but that night she lay cold 
and still in death. Suddenly they heard a gentle knocking, 
and with a nervous hand Butterfly opened the door. It was 
indeed Walter, looking handsomer than usual. Jasmine 
walked to a dark corner of the room to wipe away her tears. 
Walter told Butterfly he was amazed, and that he regretted 
very much the death of poor Anna. He was surprised at 
Butterfly’s deathly pallor. Jasmine turned around quickly, as 
she recognised his voice. She had a good view of him as the 
soft moonbeams played full upon his handsome face, — the face 
of her sister’s murderer, Arnin Kembwell. Jasmine’s heart 
stood still for a moment; speech failed her. 

“Do I dream?” she thought. “No; I do not dream, — 
it is indeed my sister’s betrayer.” 

Butterfly was about to introduce them, but was terrified at 
the aspect of Jasmine’s face. The fiery Scotch blood throbbed 

84 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


madly through her veins, as if her face was bathed in blood, 
and then she grew paler than the small corpse that lay in the 
adjoining room. Her eyes glared in the semi-darkness like 
balls of fire, and the hatred and scorn of a woman wronged 
sounded in her voice as she said : “ Arnin, — Arnin Kembwell ; 
the vengeance of God has overtaken you, but I will be just; 
I will give you until I count nine to plead for your life.” 

At the same time, without a tremor in her hand, she leveled 
a silver-mounted pistol at his heart. It glittered in the moon- 
light and Arnin Kembwell staggered back a step. He grasped 
hold of Butterfly as if to keep from falling. Too much as- 
tonished to speak, he stood and stared, a sickly pallor over- 
spreading his face, his limbs trembling with terror. 

At length he moaned hoarsely, “ Spare me for my proud 
mother’s sake.” 

But Jasmine replied, with a cold ring of hatred in her voice: 
“ Did you spare the mother of the innocent victim you so 
cruelly wronged ? Picture a grief-stricken mother bowed down 
with sorrow in her latter days.” 

As Jasmine uttered the last words her face showed no mercy, 
she was about to fire, her aim was quick and true. Butterfly 
stood aghast watching this awful scene, trembling at what 
she beheld, but she was of heroic blood and her heart was 
brave and true. 

Before Jasmine had counted nine Butterfly stood before the 
terrified wretch, her voice pleading and pitiful. “ Jasmine, for 
the love of Heaven and the sake of your sistef that now dwells 
among the angels, spare this creature’s life. His soul is black 
with sin, he is not fit to meet his Maker. Do not stain your 
soul with his life’s blood.” 

The words rang loud and clear in the stillness of the house 
of death, and in an instant a crowd gathered around the scene. 
“For the blessed Redeemer’s sake, what does all this mean?” 
said Butterfly. 


85 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


No one seemed to hear her. Scarcely had the words been 
spoken when a policeman stumbled breathlessly up the dark 
stairs, and taking in the situation at a glance placed upon Arnin 
Kembwell’s white hands iron handcuffs, and as they were all 
led away Jasmine cried out, “ May the cold chains of an iron 
prison for ever bind you; through your false treachery my 
flowerlike sister lies low, and a home is robbed of its most 
precious treasure.” 

Butterfly hid her face in her hands, and broke into a storm 
of hysterical weeping, and the handsome Arnin Kembwell who 
seemed to have everything to live for, — honor, fame, and 
wealth, — was led away in disgrace to a prison cell. He could 
not bear to stand the disgraceful trial before the world and 
his beloved mother^ but before another day dawned he had to 
stand on trial before his God. Grief-stricken at his crime that 
had now been exposed, Arnin Kembwell was found dead in 
his prison cell, bathed in his own blood, dead by his own hand. 

My dear readers, you can better imagine than I can describe 
his beloved mother’s feelings. 

The following day. Anna was laid beside the still paler 
sleepers, her sisters. Butterfly, although scarcely able to lift 
her weary head, attended the funeral. She was not surprised 
to find a little neglected plot on which grew tall grass blighted 
by the October winds. No tears fell from her eyes as she 
beheld the remains of her little companion laid away where we 
all must sleep some day, and she thought of the few last words 
Anna uttered, — “ Who knows but I may smile down upon you 
from the golden gates of Heaven ? ” 

As she was busy thinking in this way the little grave was 
receiving its finishing touches, and a man, standing close by, 
started to adorn it with Butterfly’s flowers. 

“No, no, thank you; that is my part,” she said, and with 
her own hands she placed gently and carefully the flowers that 
Anna and she loved so well. When all was over and every 

86 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


one turned to go, Butterfly lingered a moment over the flower- 
decked mound, then her sweet face was raised towards the 
Heavens; she thought she saw a vision of a small figure robed 
in softest, fairest white, the robes were adorned with glitter- 
ing jewels in the shape of stars that dazzled her eyes, and this 
beautiful figure stood on a bower of white roses that seemed 
to shine fair and pure. The whole scene was tinted with the 
sunlight of Heaven ; on her small head this vision of loveliness 
wore a crown of glittering stars that sparkled in various colors, 
nothing like the colors of earth; in her small white hand she 
held a lily, but above all it was impossible to describe the 
beauty of the face that wore a calm, serene expression. The 
light of happiness that shone from that face was lovely to be- 
hold ; peace and heavenly joy dwelled thereon. This beauti- 
ful vision whispered something like this, — “Your troubles, too, 
shall soon be ended,” then she suddenly disappeared. 

Butterfly with a cry of delight fell prostrate on the new- 
made grave. Kind hands lifted her gently into Jasmine’s car- 
riage. She soon revived, and in less than an hour, they started 
for bright and bonny Scotland and Laurel Hill House. But- 
terfly was sick ^ for months, but what of that? — for kindness 
and love soothed her pains. 

For two years and a half Butterfly lived with Jasmine, bright- 
ening her home by her presence. 

But she was an artist of rare talent, and she said to Jas- 
mine, “Why should my ability be wasted?” 

So she and Jasmine decided to go to Rome. 

About half a league from the palace of St. Peter resides a 
highly gifted artist. Her dainty little home is semi-surrounded 
by the walls of a convent. It is June once more, and an 
Italian sun is slowly setting, flooding her studio with its golden 
sunbeams, and the fragrance of rare and sweet flowers steals 
into her room, — a room that is fitted up with simple elegance. 
The fairest picture that adorns that room is the artist herself. 

87 


THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GIRL 


She is gowned in a white lace robe, which hangs in graceful 
folds around her slender waist; her sweet face is pensive, and 
her lovely thoughtful eyes are looking through the window 
watching a petite, graceful girl with red brown hair. The 
girl, her faithful friend Jasmine Sutherland, is listening at- 
tentively to the nightingale singing. Sitting opposite her at 
the other window watching the beauty of the scene is a little 
kind-faced woman, middle-aged and dressed in black. It is 
Molly, her mother’s faithful servant. She tells Butterfly that 
she knew those happy days would return for her. 

Butterfly answered smilingly, “ They are not those happy, 
childhood days I spent at Ivy Cottage.” 




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